Exit Wounds
by CaptainMihnea
Summary: What would happen if Maura took a bullet for Jane? Grief, angst and Rizzles with a slice of crime thrown in. Rated M for sex, occasional swearing and some violence. I don't own these characters, but the story's all mine blah blah etc. Reviews much appreciated. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Just from glancing at the house, Jane Rizzoli could tell that something bad had occurred in there. A building which harboured a murder victim invariably had the same look, regardless of the actual appearance of the place. A factory could end up looking the same as a house on Beacon Hill; it didn't matter. It wasn't the yellow tape or the swarming crime scene techs or even the way the blue lights of the squad cars flickered from the brickwork. It was just _something _she couldn't put her finger on. _Maybe I can just smell it, _Jane mused. Or perhaps she was a little like the kid from The Sixth Sense.

_Whatever, _she thought to herself dismissively as she strolled up the front lawn and flashed her badge to the uniformed officer on duty outside. She reeled off her serial number and he nodded and moved aside to let her pass without a word. Clearly not much of a talker.

The victim was upstairs in the bedroom. He was face-down in a pool of steadily congealing blood. There was a hole punched through the back of his skull. Jane really wasn't looking forward to seeing the mess the exit wound would have made of his face. Even though it didn't look to be a particularly large calibre bullet, she knew there would still be a significant amount of damage. She was damned if she was going to look until she absolutely had to. She had a strong stomach, but there were some sights that really didn't need to be hastened. It could wait until Maura got here.

Jane appraised the room. The window was open, and below it was a flat roof, which looked to be the route the killer had entered via. Judging by the position of the body and the spray of blood on the far wall, the man had been shot from this side of the room. Then, probably intending to exit through the front door, the murderer had stepped over the body – Jane could see a heel print from a trainer in the red sticky pool that haloed the corpse's head – and left a faint trail of half footprints that led into the hallway.

The drawers of the victim's bedside table had been ripped out and the wardrobe was open. It looked like the killer had been looking for something.

The rhythmic clatter of high heels on the parquet wood floor signalled Dr Isles' arrival. The medical examiner was dressed in slightly more casual attire than she usually favoured – a flowing green, cowl-necked top, beige leather jacket, and black jeans so tight they looked like they could have been painted on Maura's lithe form. Nude sling-back shoes with a modest – for Maura – four inch heel finished her outfit. Jane often wondered how the woman always looked like she was about to do a photo shoot; nobody had the right to look this good a hundred percent of the time, but Maura certainly seemed to. She'd once complained that the ME's clothes were less than practical for her job, but the doctor had shot her down quite successfully. Jane hadn't the heart to argue with someone so oblivious to how very attractive they were.

And she had to be honest, when it came to Maura Isles, there was precious little to complain about. She caught one of the crime scene photographers ogling her friends form and cocked an eyebrow at him. He blushed and quickly retreated. Jane guessed she couldn't really blame him. _Those jeans... _She shook her head.

"Great way to spend a Saturday night," Jane quipped by way of a hello.

Maura rolled her eyes. "Very inconsiderate of him to get shot like this."

"Absolutely."

"Do we know anything?"

"Neighbours heard shots fired and called 911 straight away. From the way this room's been ransacked, I think it's safe to assume the killer was looking for something."

"You know how I feel about assumptions."

"Yeah, I know – they make an ass out of you and... umption," Jane joked.

Maura smiled. "That isn't a word, Jane."

She grinned, "Thanks for that. So. What can you tell me?"

The doctor carefully rolled the body over, partly out of respect for the dead, partly out of a desire not to get blood on her clothes. Jane tried not to look at the ruin of the victim's face. It was even less pretty than she had imagined.

Maura looked up sharply, "He's still warm, Jane."

"Patrol car was in the area; first on scene were here about five minutes after the call came in." She shrugged.

"The house has been thoroughly secured?"

Jane nodded. She knew the officers who'd got here first. This wasn't their first rodeo – they knew exactly what to do and what protocols they had to follow.

Suddenly paranoid, the detective eyed the bloody footprints. "Stay here a sec," she told Maura, "It's probably nothing – I just want to make sure there's nobody lurking anywhere."

Jane slowly followed the prints out of the room and along the hall. She flicked the light switch to the next bedroom. The prints led to a closet in the far corner and stopped in front of the door.

Without a sound, Jane drew her gun and thumbed off the safety catch. She slid her index finger onto the trigger and felt the weight of it against her skin.

With her pistol trained expertly at the closet door, she reached with her left hand to open it. Time slowed. As her fingers brushed the handle, she took an imperceptible deep breath and mentally braced herself for violence.

She wrenched open the door.

Nobody jumped out at her. Nobody yelled, nobody screamed. There was nothing there. Nothing, that is, but a pair of trainers. One with a blood-soaked heel.

It was the precise moment Jane disappeared that Maura felt the first shiver run down her spine. She felt that awful feeling a person only gets when they're being watched by something distinctly unfriendly. A tingle ran through the skin of her scalp, and she felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Heart in her mouth, she froze.

_No, _she tried to rationalise, _this is nothing. No more than a silly reaction to Jane's investigative mistrust. _If Jane hadn't had the reaction she had, then Maura was certain she herself would not be feeling this irrational fear bubble away in her stomach.

It occurred to her then that she was completely alone. Jane may have been in the next room, but the rest of her team had retreated downstairs in order to give her some space with the body seeing as the room was so cramped. Maura abruptly realised that if something were to happen to her, it would be too late for anyone to reach her. Desperately, she tried to quash this perfectly unfounded suspicion and focus on the job at hand, but at the same time, she was certain she was missing something truly important.

It was the creak of a floorboard that told her she wasn't being as irrational as she thought. _I'm not alone, _Maura thought as her dread mounted. The touch of cold metal to her temple a moment later brought her fears crashing down about her and confirmed her worst anxieties. The barrel of a gun. Hard and unforgiving.

Maura brought her hands gingerly out in a pacifying gesture, holding them out in the way she'd seen so many cornered criminals do. She kept her gaze downcast, unsure of what might happen if she actually made eye contact with the gunman.

"You're in my way, Dr Isles," a voice said too softly. To Maura the words sounded like a crypt door closing.

She stood up as slowly and non-threateningly as she could and took a step back. When the gunman gave her no instruction, she took another two steps backwards.

"I'm not looking for any trouble," Maura managed to say. Her voice was so very quiet. She'd always thought that she had the ability to stay calm in the face of danger, but now that someone had in reality put a gun to her head, she was panicking. She could almost feel herself going to pieces right there and then.

"I'm afraid trouble found you." The voice was so cold. A killer's voice.

"You're making a very big mistake." Maura had never been good at threats, but now, with her pulse racing so fast, and dread freezing her synapses, she could tell her words would do her no good.

"And you're still in my way."

Maura realised she stood directly between the gunman and the window. That was the only route he could possibly take if he didn't want to be seen. With the amount of Boston PD that were gathered in and around the house, it was still a risk, but it was considerably safer for him than the front entrance.

_What would Jane do? _Maura was no hero, and she freely admitted this to herself. It wasn't her job to be in harm's way – she wasn't used to this kind of danger. She wasn't sure she even knew how to think like Jane; she only knew that her friend was brave enough to take care of a situation like this without batting an eyelid.

"Running out of patience here, doctor."

With her eyes fixed firmly on the barrel of his gun, Maura took a step to the left. The gunman mirrored her and they circled around to trade places. He paused at the window, indecision written across his features. As her body shook with fear, Maura knew that whatever he was thinking could well lead him to kill her right there and then.

"You've seen my face," he told her. "I can't let you live."

Maura swallowed. "Please," she whispered. It was the only word she could choke out.

He shook his head and raised his gun.

"Stop right there, asshole." Jane's voice sounded behind her from the doorway.

Startled, the man flinched. Maura saw anger flash in his eyes. She saw movement in his gun arm and knew exactly what was about to happen. She yelled out and dove backwards, smashing straight into Jane and knocking her aside.

Maura heard the shots fired.

But it wasn't until she saw the edges of her vision begin to grey that she understood what had happened. Icy agony burned a searing chasm through her abdomen. She could feel warm liquid running down her ribs and hip.

_Pressure, _she thought sluggishly, trying to move her hands over the wound, _I have to put pressure on it. I have t―_

Crumpled up on the hard floor, Maura's eyes slid shut. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

As Maura hit the floor, Jane was already rebounding from the doorframe, with her gun trained on the centre of their assailant's chest. A rage quite unlike any other she'd ever felt before roared through her veins. She fired off two shots; the first missed and buried the bullet in the brickwork above the window. She was more stable for the second, which grazed across the top of the man's bicep. Before Jane was able to squeeze the trigger a third time, he'd managed to launch himself headfirst out of the open window.

Jane dived over the bed and saw him skid across the flat roof and off of the far edge. She shot again, but by this time he was too far away and the bullet thudded into the dirt. A moment later, he was gone and Jane could do nothing other than swear vehemently.

"Shit," she spat. "Maura, you ok back there?"

No answer.

"Maura?" Her voice felt small, muffled somehow.

The scars in the middle of her palms prickled. Jane slowly turned to face the doorway. There abandoned on the threshold was Maura's shoe. It looked so out of place. So wrong.

The walk across the bedroom seemed to take an eternity. No part of her wanted to move, no part of her wanted to see what lay just out of sight. Her stomach muscles were so tense it was painful, and could feel the butt of her dug digging into her hand as she grasped it in a white-knuckle grip.

When she saw the medical examiner lying silent and motionless on the ground, a howl ripped loose from Jane's throat and she threw herself to her knees beside the body of her closest friend. She immediately pressed her hand to the oozing wound, and felt hot, greasy blood begin to bubble up between her fingertips. Her other hand braced behind Maura's neck, turning the woman to face her. Maura's head lolled alarmingly as Jane brought it into the crook of her elbow. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Her beautiful features were slackened under impossibly pale skin.

"Maura, please," Jane breathed. Her eyes were hot with tears as moisture rolled unchecked down her cheeks. A single teardrop fell from her jaw and landed in the hollow of the other woman's throat. Numb, she watched it spread across the flesh there.

"Don't you dare leave me, Maura Isles. Don't you dare. Please, God, don't you fucking leave me."

Maura mumbled something indistinct. Jane was certain she heard her name.

"I need an EMT!" she screamed, "Somebody! Somebody help me!"

Frost was sipping tepid coffee from a styrofoam cup on the front lawn when he heard the first shot ring out in the crisp night air. By the time the second and third came, he was already in motion. Long legs pumping, he drew his gun quicker than a thought and raced inside the house. A fourth shot. He leaped straight over the sofa instead of wasting time going around it, and made for the stairs.

"Jane!" he heard Vince yell behind him as the older man brought up the rear.

Frost took the stairs two at a time and reached the landing just as a scream made him stop dead. That scream. It didn't even sound human. It was so hoarse with emotion and so loud it must have torn the vocal chords of whatever uttered it clean through.

Korsak arrived behind him, panting, with his eyes wild. Frost was sure his expression was mirrored on the sergeant's careworn face.

"Jane?" Frost called, taking a step forward. He was shaking with adrenaline, but he now found himself full of caution.

All of a sudden, he saw it. He ran to Jane's side, yelling for a paramedic. His voice joined with Jane's discordant pleas for help, and he heard Korsak shouting the same thing.

"Is she―" Frost cut himself off. He couldn't even finish the thought.

"No." Jane rasped. "She's not. I won't let her. You hear me, Maura? I won't let you. You can't do this. Wake up. Please, just wake up for me. Please."

Sobs overwhelmed Jane's begging until she could no longer choke words out. Frost felt a tear form in the pit of his eye as he watched helplessly as Jane clutched the bleeding body of Dr Isles to her chest and rocked back and forth.

Unable to take his eyes off of Jane's terrible grief, Frost was surprised when booted feet appeared in his line of vision. He looked up, and found himself looking up at the grim face of an EMT.

"Detective, I need you to let go of her now," the paramedic told her. His speech was gentle but urgent.

Jane didn't even seem to notice. Tears obscured her vision, and anguish obscured her thoughts. Frost touched her shoulder.

"Jane," he said beseechingly. "Jane, the paramedics are here."

Her brown eyes locked onto his, crystalline and uncomprehending.

"Jane," he tried again, "You need to let them do their job. Let them help her."

When Jane still seemed not to understand, the paramedic lost his patience. He clapped his hands stridently in front of Jane's face to jerk her out of her inertia. His partner seized her by the shoulders and dragged her backwards out of the way. Frost went with her and knelt by her side, as she shook and sobbed and tried to crawl back to Maura's side. She was in pieces, and he didn't know what to do. He'd never imagined he would ever seen Jane like this.

"It's ok, Jane," Frost whispered. "Everything's going to be ok. They'll help her."

Jane whimpered. Her hands were dark with Maura's blood as she reached for him. He took her into his arms, and they sat like that on the unforgiving floor, as they watched the paramedics fight for Maura's life right there in the hallway.

"She pushed me out the way," Jane kept saying. "It should be me over there. Not Maura, never Maura."

Frost shushed her. "She's going to make it, Jane. I know it."

But as he felt her tears and Maura's blood soak through his shirt front, he realised he didn't know that at all. He just knew that neither of them could handle the thought of any alternative. He just held Jane's shuddering form closer to him and prayed to a god he didn't even believe in to spare his friend.

Jane stiffened as the paramedics shifted Maura onto a stretcher and readied themselves to lift her.

She broke away from Frost's embrace so violently that he cried out. She was on her feet before he realised what was happening. Something had changed in her. She watched the paramedics raise Maura up and start to manoeuvre the stretcher down the stairs. Her body was like a coiled spring, ready to unleash carnage on anything that might provoke her. Frost wasn't sure that this sudden ferocity was any better than her complete, horrifying grief, but at least she seemed to be able to string thoughts together now.

"Where are you taking her?" Jane demanded, her voice thick and guttural.

"We need to get her into surgery right away. We can't waste any time."

"I'm coming with you."

The EMT nodded. "Come," he told her brusquely and carried on.

Jane followed them so closely as they navigated the steps that Frost worried she was going to trip them over. She was in full primal, protect mode, and he feared for anyone that got in her way.

As the paramedics loaded Maura into the back of an ambulance, Frost caught Korsak's staring at him. The sergeant looked like he was going to be sick. He had the same dread haunting his eyes that Frost could feel constricting his heart. The older man signalled to his car as the ambulance exploded into life and roared away. Frost all but dived into the passenger seat as Korsak floored the accelerator and hurried after in the wake of the sirens and flashing blue lights.

"Call Angela, Frost. Do it now!" Korsak ordered, but Frost already had his phone to his ear.

The phone rang and rang for far too long before Jane's mother picked up.

"Hello?" the woman said groggily. She'd clearly been asleep.

"Something's happened," Frost said tightly. He didn't know how to tell her.

"My Janie―" The fear in Angela's voice was palpable and it resonated in Frost's stomach. He could feel nausea mount up at the back of his throat and swallowed hard.

"It's Maura," he told her. "I think Jane's going to really need you."

"Tell me everything."


	3. Chapter 3

**(Author's Note: A massive thank you to anyone who's reviewed this – you're all lovely. This is the first time I've shared my writing with people who aren't obliged to say something nice about it and I'm a little overwhelmed by the response XD Hope the next instalment doesn't disappoint. Big love!)**

Chapter 3

The sight of her daughter standing staring into the middle distance with a slack jaw, drenched in blood, was one that Angela Rizzoli knew would be very hard to banish from her mind. There was something so terrifying about seeing someone so strong appearing to be so thoroughly defeated and numb. Especially since that person was her own flesh and blood. She was certain the image would return in her nightmares. She wasn't sure what was worse – seeing Jane after she shot herself three years ago, or this crimson-soaked apparition.

"How long has she been like that?" Angela whispered.

"At least twenty minutes," Korsak replied. "When they wouldn't let her go into surgery with them, Jane just sort of shut down. She's been there ever since."

Korsak and Frost were standing at a respectful distance, neither man wanted to approach Jane when she was in such a volatile state. The casual observer might not notice how rigidly she was tensed up, but Angela knew her daughter well. She let out a heartfelt sigh. She was so concerned about Jane that she hadn't even had the chance to think about the fact it was a woman she fully considered family that was fighting for survival in an operating room. On an intellectual level, she knew it was happening, but it had yet to really hit home. She hoped she could delay that until she knew that Jane was going to be ok.

"Has anyone called Maura's mother?" Angela asked, not taking her eyes off of Jane.

Frost nodded. "Constance? She's in Rome at the moment. She's trying to get a flight back either tonight or tomorrow morning."

"What about Hope?"

Korsak just shook his head.

Angela sighed again. She gritted her teeth and walked to where her daughter stood.

"Janie?" she uttered.

Jane blinked and turned slowly. "Ma?"

"I'm here, sweetheart. I'm here."

"Oh, Ma," Jane breathed, and seized her mother in a tight embrace. She buried her face into Angela's shoulder. A shudder ran through her whole body as, all of a sudden, she allowed herself to finally relax a little. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, each taking strength from the other's closeness. Angela could feel that Jane's clothes had stiffened where Maura's blood had dried in the material.

The scuff of soft shoes on linoleum heralded the arrival of a surgeon. Jane looked at him with such hope that Angela thought her heart might crack. The man still had his mask on, obscuring most of his face, and his eyes told her nothing. When he unfastened it, the dour line of his mouth still didn't give anything away.

"Well?" Angela asked anxiously.

"Are you Dr Isles' next of kin?"

Jane opened her mouth to speak, but Angela cut her off. "Yes, I am," she said without thinking, "Constance Isles."

The surgeon took her proffered hand and shook it without question. Apparently that was good enough for him. Angela knew medical professionals wouldn't normally share information with those who weren't family or spouses, and she wasn't sure Jane's badge would be sufficient to get them anywhere.

"Your daughter's condition is severe, Mrs Isles," the doctor told them as Frost and Korsak appeared next to her.

"How severe?" Jane managed to ask. It was the first time either of the detectives had heard her speak since they left the crime scene.

"She has a collapsed lung, and she's lost a lot of blood. There's some other internal damage, and a cracked lower rib. The bullet seems to have passed straight through her torso."

Angela heard Jane suck a great gout of air in sharply through her teeth.

"I can't make any promises at this stage – she'll be in surgery for at least a couple more hours – but we're hopeful that she'll be able to pull through. She's young and very healthy, so I'm reasonably confident. Bear in mind that we may run across other complications, but so far, she's been lucky."

Korsak laughed with relief. In the quiet of the hospital corridor, the sound was jarring.

"So she isn't going to―" Jane swallowed, and continued in a barely audible voice, "Die?"

"Like I said, I can't promise anything now. There's a lot to be done. But I'm optimistic."

Angela felt a warmth spread in the pit of her stomach and couldn't help but smile at the man. "Thank you, doctor, that's reassuring news."

He nodded and took his leave.

"You hear that, Jane?" Korsak said. "Maura's going to be alright."

"That's not what he said." Jane told him flatly.

Vince's mouth closed with an unmistakable snap. He and Angela exchanged a look, while Frost appraised Jane awkwardly. There wasn't really much any of them could say to that. Angela could tell that the relief she felt, and that she could see in the two men, was not getting through to her daughter. _Jane won't believe the doctor safe until she sees her with her own eyes. She needs to hold Maura's hand and see her smile._

Angela made a decision. She needed to occupy her daughter with something while Maura was in surgery, so that Jane wouldn't go mad sitting in the waiting room for hours.

"Janie, how about we go and get you cleaned up? You don't want to be all dirty when Maura wakes up, do you?"

"It's not dirt, Ma. It's blood."

"Even so." Angela looked hopelessly at Frost and Korsak for support.

Vince cleared his throat, and said in his best approximation of a father-voice: "She's right. It's going to be a long wait; you might as well get more comfortable."

"I can't leave!" Jane exclaimed, "What if something happens? What if she needs me?"

"We'll stay," Frost promised, "Nothing's going to happen."

All of a sudden, Jane looked exhausted. Her shoulders sagged under the weight of so much emotion, and she conceded defeat, clearly no longer having the energy to argue. Angela saw logic beginning to return to her daughter's face, slowly starting to push away her blind panic and grief. It couldn't dispel the 'what ifs' that they were all having, but it did at least allow for some rationality to return to her thought processes.

"Jane?" Angela said sternly, her hands placed firmly on her hips. It was a pose she'd assumed a lot when Jane was a child, and even now that she was grown up, it still could have the desired cowing effect.

For the first time, Jane really looked at her, and sensed – quite rightly – that this wasn't a battle she was going to win, nor should she really even try and fight it. She could see her daughter doing the maths in her head, working out how long it would be before she could get back here. Angela estimated that they'd only be about an hour, which was hopefully enough of an excursion to stop Jane bursting into the operating theatre to demand a progress report.

Jane sighed. "Fine."

They borrowed Korsak's car, and, much to Angela's dismay, Jane insisted upon having the siren on the whole way. She was in no mood to wait for any traffic – despite the fact it was almost midnight and the roads were almost empty – and the flashing blue light gave an excuse to drive recklessly, which gave her something to concentrate on and soothed her frayed nerves. Angela refused to open her eyes for the entire duration of the journey and clung tightly to her seatbelt. Jane could really handle a car like a rally driver when she wanted to.

Fifteen minutes after leaving the hospital, they arrived at Jane's building. It was one of the longest quarter of an hour periods that either of them had ever endured – though each for different reasons. Angela swore uncharacteristically as Jane flung the car into reverse and skidded into a parking space.

"Getting us killed won't help Maura." Her mother declared.

Jane ignored her and took the steps up to her apartment two at a time. She wanted to exert her body as much as she could to stop herself thinking. Now that her numbness had receded, her brain was full of awful scenarios. She could picture herself returning to the waiting room, only to be told that it was too late.

Catching sight of herself in a mirror, Jane froze. Up until that point she hadn't realised quite how much blood had covered her. _Maura's blood. _Her white shirt was coloured dark red and when she touched it, the material was rigid with it. The front of her trousers and suit jacket felt the same, but the black hue hid it slightly. There was a dull, stiff mat in one side of her hair where she must have run her bloody hand through. She swallowed to see that it looked almost as though she was wearing rusty brown gloves. It lined the workings of her watch, and when she flexed her fingers, thin slivers of gore flaked from her skin.

Lifting her chin, Jane saw there was a smear of dried blood along her jaw. Her throat bobbed, and her eyes prickled, as her hands formed fists at her sides.

"That bullet was meant for me," she told Angela, meeting her mother's eyes reflected in front of her. "Maura shouldn't have been there. I should have swept the place myself. I shouldn't have―" Jane shook her head fiercely. "She should never have been in danger. It's my fault."

"You couldn't have known."

"I should have!" Jane shouted. "This shouldn't be happening! I can't lose her, Ma. I just can't. I don't know what I'd do."

"Maura isn't going anywhere. I promise you that. She's a fighter, you know she is."

"I can't lose her," Jane repeated, but then cut herself off, "She's―"

"She's what, Jane?" Angela asked gently.

Jane fixed her with a look that was shocking in its vulnerability. "You must know―"

Again she bit down hard on her words. Shaking her head, she turned away from the mirror, and raked her hand through her hair. Her fingers caught in the bloody tangle on one side and pulled painfully. Abruptly conscious of the genesis of the knot, Jane felt bile rise in her throat as the meagre contents of her stomach churned painfully.

She walked carefully into the bathroom, shut the door, and waited until it sounded as though Angela was busy with something. Then she was quietly – but thoroughly – sick.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Jane didn't bother to strip off before she climbed into the shower. She discarded her suit jacket, but remained dressed apart from that. She lowered her head into the stream and let it pound against her forehead. It stopped her seeing the way the water swirled vermillion around the plughole. There was so much blood that it took a full fifteen minutes for the redness to fade and the torrent to run clear again. After that, she peeled her sodden clothes away from skin that was beginning to wrinkle in the wet and threw them uncaringly on the tiled floor. Each item landed with a loud splat.

She shampooed her hair four times before she was satisfied that the matted lump was gone completely, and scrubbed herself down with most of a bottle of shower gel. However, despite rubbing her skin raw in places, Jane was unable to banish the faint bloodstains that lingered under her fingernails.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom wrapped in the comforting weight of a large fluffy towel, she found that Angela had cleaned most of her kitchen. Her mother had a habit of tidying and polishing things when she was feeling anxious. Jane had almost inherited the trait – she always vacuumed her apartment when she was struggling with a particularly tough case – but she couldn't compare with Angela. Her mother made things _sparkle. _And although she didn't fully comprehend it, Jane was certainly grateful.

"Heard anything from Frost?" Jane asked, full of both hope and dread.

Angela shook her head. "Nothing yet, but Frankie's gone down there now. He'll keep us posted."

Jane nodded; she was pleased that there would at least be one Rizzoli at the hospital should anything happen before she could get back. She wasn't sure why that was reassuring, but it was. Frankie was always a good man to have around in a serious situation – he was level-headed and could act as her proxy if need be. She trusted her brother, and liked the way he thought. She wouldn't admit it out loud, but she was glad Angela had called him instead of Tommy. She'd never felt like she could rely on her youngest sibling.

As she got dressed in her bedroom, Jane listened to the soothing sounds of her mother bustling away in the kitchen. It reminded her of being a kid back in their busy house, before her parents argued all the time, and long before her father upped and left.

Jane tugged on some slim-fitting jeans, an old grey Boston Homicide t-shirt and yanked her damp hair back into a ponytail. Her bare feet poked from the bottom of her trousers, and for a moment, she wondered how her toenail varnish had gotten so chipped. Ordinarily she didn't give a damn, but now she found it almost offensive. _Maura wouldn't let that happen to her feet, _she thought absurdly.

With a powerful sigh, Jane flung on some socks, grabbed a black zip-up hoodie, and called herself done.

"Ma?" she called, "Let's go!"

Angela didn't respond – she was busy putting together a stack of sandwiches.

"Ma, what are you doing?"

Her mother gave her an indignant look. "You don't know how long we'll be at the hospital, and I'm not going to sit around eating crappy vending machine food. Besides, I thought it would be nice to bring Frost and Korsak something."

"Well, hurry up, I need to get back."

"I'll just be a few minutes."

Jane swore under her breath, already champing at the delay. She checked her phone – nothing – and began pacing impatiently. As she reached to scratch the side of her nose, she saw the how her cuticles were still lined with blood and flinched away from her face. Quickly, she crossed to the sink and slammed on the hot tap. She coated her hands with soap and ground them together, frantically rubbing around her fingertips. Steam rose around her elbows as the water got warmer and warmer.

"For fuck's sake!" she shouted as the red stains continued to linger. She could have sworn they were getting bigger. Even the scalding water couldn't make them budge.

Angela's gentle hand on her bicep stopped her. "Come on now, Lady Macbeth," the older woman said kindly, "There's nothing there anymore."

"I can still see her blood." Jane whispered. "I can still feel it on my skin whenever I move. Still smell it. It's horrible, Ma. I can't make it go away."

"I promise you, sweetheart, it's gone. Trust me." Angela turned off the tap and took Jane tenderly by her wrists and showed her daughter her hands. "Look, all gone."

Jane shuddered out a wracking breath. Her shoulders slumped; she felt utterly woebegone. "I can't do this. I can't go through this with her."

"I thought the same thing when it was you in that OR," Angela said quietly. "You'd be surprised how strong you can be when it's somebody you love fighting for their life."

Jane stiffened at Angela's use of the word 'love,' unsure of entirely what her mother meant, but she chose not to question it. Those kinds of thoughts – in the brief moments she admitted she had them – took her somewhere she didn't want to go right now.

"Your job is dangerous, Jane, and there are times I'm scared for you. But I know you. And I know Maura. I've been less frightened for you ever since you started working together, because I knew that if something happened to you, she would make certain you were ok. She'd do everything she could, and I've seen you – you'd do the exact same for her."

"But what can I do?" Jane pleaded. "I'm no doctor; I can't stitch her up and make her better. I can't fix her. What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"You just have to be strong. I'm certain you can do that."

"Oh, Ma," was all Jane could say. She took her mother into her arms and held her tight. Angela hugged her back just as closely; she smelt like washing up liquid and home. Jane breathed deep, finding immense solace in the child-like joy of a mum's embrace.

* * *

"I'm sorry to be indelicate," a man's voice was saying from somewhere out of sight as they neared the waiting room, "But we need to know now if your friend is an organ donor. Time is critical here, and we can't wait for her mother to get back."

Jane looked at Angela, and saw the same panic she felt etched deeply into the lines of the older woman's face. Jane launched herself forward. _Not Maura. Please. _The voice was coming from an empty room. She all but sprinted to it and half collapsed in the doorway when she saw a completely different surgeon talking to two distraught teenagers.

"Sorry," she mumbled, and rapidly moved away. She clutched her stomach, waiting for the fear and nausea to subside.

"It's ok, Ma," Jane assured Angela as her mother caught her up. "Not anything to do with us."

Angela hissed out a long breath from between her teeth. "I thought we might have been too late," she said in a small voice.

Tears shone in her eyes. Jane yanked her into an awkward one-armed hug and planted a kiss on the top of her head. _Shit, _she muttered in the privacy of her own head. That cut much too close to the bone for her liking. She noticed her fists were clenched so tightly that her short fingernails were digging painfully into her palms. She uncurled her fingers and surveyed the half-moon indents; one on her right hand – just next to the scar Hoyt had given her – had punctured the skin, and was beginning to weep a tiny bead of red. Jane quickly licked it away and wiped her hand on her jeans.

"You all good, Ma?"

Angela nodded. Her face was white and her eyes seemed more liquid than usual. She didn't look 'all good,' but Jane knew this was as close an approximation as either of them would be able to manage.

By the time they reached the waiting area, Frost and Korsak had turned the small room into their own miniature office. They'd commandeered a white board from somewhere and had attached crime scene photographs to it, as well as scrawling notes across it. Frost had a stack of statements from the inhabitants of the local area, and Vince was drawing up a timeline to help track the gunman. Frankie was staring at the board with a glazed expression; he looked like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Jane took one look at the photo taped to the top of the board – a photo that clearly showed the puddle of Maura's blood – and grabbed a chair. A deep sigh escaped her as she moved the seat out into the hallway. She could bear to look at that blood. Frost watched her go with understanding, as Angela followed suit.

Jane slumped in the chair. "Talk to me," she said wearily.

Angela's mouth moved soundlessly as she groped for a safe subject. "We're trying a new brand of coffee at the station cafe," she finally replied lamely.

Jane snorted.

"A Columbian blend," her mother continued unenthusiastically. "It's supposed to be slightly less bitter."

"Ma?" Jane said, shaking her head. In spite of everything, she couldn't help but smile.

"Janie?" The corners of Angela's mouth twitched suspiciously, as though she was struggling to keep them in line. Mirth twinkled in her eyes.

A chuckle vibrating through her, Jane didn't respond, she simply laid her head on the older woman's shoulder, and settled in for a long wait.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Detective Rizzoli?"

The nurse's gentle voice yanked Jane violently from her reverie. She jerked up sharply in her seat from where she had been sprawled.

"Yes!" she exclaimed, "That's me. What's happened? Is Maura ok?"

The nurse smiled. "Your friend has just come out of surgery. She'll be a while recovering, but she's out of the woods now."

"Maura's definitely going to be alright?" Jane said tightly, feeling the most vulnerable she had ever felt.

"She's going to be just fine."

"Can I see her?" Jane asked eagerly. "I should be there when she wakes up. Please, I need to be there."

The other woman nodded. "We've afforded Dr Isles her own room near the ICU. Number 26. I'm afraid I can't let your whole party in there, Detective; it'll just have to be you."

Jane nodded vigorously. At some point during the night, she'd convinced Frost, Frankie and Korsak to go home and get some rest. They were, after all, the ones who would be taking point on this case. Angela was fast asleep in the waiting room, but Jane had elected to stay in her position outside the door. She hadn't been able to sleep herself, but she could see the fatigue in the other's eyes.

"My mother is in there," Jane gestured at the closed door. "If she wakes up, could you tell her where I am?"

"Certainly."

"Thanks." Jane snatched up her discarded hoodie and tried not to run to the other end of the ward. Foolishly, as though Maura would be wide awake and expecting her, she knocked carefully on the door before she went in.

The only sounds that broke the silence in the room were Maura's soft breathing and the regular blip of the heart monitor. From the doorway, Jane watched the steady, almost imperceptible, rise and fall of her chest; she trusted that sight far more than the synthetic beep of machinery. Despite what the nurse had told her, Jane needed solid reassurance that she was still with her.

Maura appeared so small, lying there, and Jane felt completely disproportionate to her surroundings. It was suddenly as though she was looking at the world through the wrong end of a telescope. Her friend seemed to have lost _something, _to have become less somehow. The effect was jarring.

Above her head there was a hiss of static through the intercom. Jane jerked as a string of garbled medical jargon blurted out; she didn't understand a word of it, but she knew Maura would. That thought tugged at her heart. She peered back around the door as a harried nurse rushed along the corridor outside, her flat heels clacking loudly against the floor tiles.

Not wanting Maura to be disturbed – even though the doctor was clearly heavily sedated – Jane shut the door with a quiet snap.

Swamped by an abrupt, implacable sense of loneliness, Jane sat down in the lumpy old armchair by Maura's bed. She reached out gingerly and carefully took her hand, cradling it in her own, eager for human comfort. Maura's fingers were disturbingly cold, as though all vitality had fled them, so she rubbed them gently between her scarred palms, almost as if she were trying to force a measure of life back into her.

The ME's eyes flickered.

"Maura?" Jane breathed. Eventually, they opened properly and slid into focus. The doctor squinted in the faint glow of the monitors. Jane supposed they must seem bright after the dark of unconsciousness.

Maura made lethargic eye contact. "Jane?" she murmured thickly.

"I'm here."

"Jane."

This time, when Maura said her name, it felt like a caress. Almost like a benediction.

Maura's eyelids slid closed once more, and she returned to unconsciousness with a faint smile. Jane swallowed, finding tears lingering at the back of her throat.

"You scared the shit out of me, Maura," She whispered once the tide of emotion had passed enough to let her speak. "Don't you ever do this again. I can't cope with the idea of living without you. You must know that, right? You mean so much to me. So much."

Jane sighed forcefully. _I wonder if I could ever tell her how I feel while she's conscious... _Standing briefly, she planted a soft kiss on Maura's cheek, and then slumped down into the uncomfortable chair, still holding the other woman's petite hand. She rested her head on the bed close to their entwined fingers. Then she shut her eyes and finally allowed herself to sleep.

* * *

There was a nun. Maura chased her through the yard, knowing it was very important that she catch up with the wimpled woman. She dashed through a series of doorways. Each time, all she saw of her objective was the flap of a habit as the nun remained largely just out of sight.

A new doorway opened into a long corridor lined with mirrors. She finally caught sight of the nun's face. Familiar brown eyes shone out from above defined cheekbones. That wild dark hair that the wimple couldn't quite contain.

_Jane._

Jane was a nun? The woman had more layers than a lasagne. Or a tiramisu. Maura blinked. She was her hungry. Her brain wasn't working properly. She felt sluggish. Drugged. Her limbs felt as though she was pushing through molasses, and there was a dull pain in her right side, as though somebody had prodded her with considerable force.

"Hey!" she shouted, having trouble running in her lime and pink floral pencil skirt. "Jane, come back!"

She stopped. _Pink and lime?_ It was the skirt – not the nun – that let Maura know this probably wasn't real. _Drugged, then, _she mused. _There's no other reason for my brain to commit such fashion homicide..._

Judy Garland waved at her from an alcove. She was wearing a hat shaped like a fruit bowl.

"Huh," Maura said, "Really, really drugged."

She rounded another corner, and charged face first into Jane. She rebounded in an enormous flutter of black material. Hands flew to her shoulders, righting her before she even realised how off-balance she had been thrown. Jane had that smirk playing about her lips. Her mischievous look and the sparkle in her eyes were completely incongruous to her current attire.

Abruptly, Maura noticed how very close together they were standing. She could feel Jane's breath on her cheek, and the taller woman hadn't taken her steadying hands from Maura's shoulders. But those hands were no longer steadying; instead, that simple touch was making her feel considerably askew. The warmth of Jane's fingertips seeped through the thin fabric of her shirt.

Maura's eyes moved involuntarily down to Jane's lips. They looked very soft. She watched Jane's tongue flick out involuntarily to wet her lips.

That looked very soft too.

"Impure thoughts, Dr Isles," said Jane, and whacked her across the back of the hand with a ruler.

"Ouch!" Maura exclaimed.

And woke up.

* * *

The first thing she was aware of was a strand of dark hair, which had tumbled carelessly onto the back of Maura's wrist. It twitched in time with a sleeping woman's breathing.

_Jane._

Of course it was Jane. Maura didn't know of anyone else who would fall asleep in such an awkward position purely to be close to her. She savoured the feel of their hands locked together, and, even though the hair tickled something fierce, she savoured that too. The tender contact – from someone so dear to her – meant that in her medicated state, Maura wasn't particularly bothered that she had neither any idea where she was, nor how she had come to be there. Jane's familiar scent wrapped around her like a balm.

She was in pain, yes, but she wasn't entirely sure where it was coming from. Echoes of remembered agony threw themselves around her ribcage, but their keenness had been dulled and rendered clumsy. Any discomfort she could actually pin down was tempered by the lassitude that was shambling through her whole body.

Truth be told, the only thing Maura cared about at that moment was Jane.

She returned the grip Jane had on her hand with as much strength as she could muster into her fingertips. It wasn't much, but it jolted Jane awake.

"Maura?" she rasped. Her eyes were wide, and there was a tremor in her voice that Maura had never heard before.

"Hello," she said simply.

"How are you feeling? Do you want me to call a doctor?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Do you want me to get you anything?"

"I'm fine, Jane. Honestly."

"Do you remember―?"

"Later," Maura uttered. "For now, would you hold me?"

"What?" Jane stammered; she was hesitant. "I don't want to hurt you."

"With the amount of drugs I can feel in my system, I very much doubt you could hurt me. Please, get up here. I could really do with a hug."

For a second, Jane faltered, but then she stood up and carefully manoeuvred herself into the tiny space between Maura and the railing at the edge of the bed. She made a painstaking effort not to touch the doctor, or jostle her, but her movements still sent a number of jabs of hurt spiking through Maura's abdomen.

Jane propped herself up on the headboard and gingerly put her arm around Maura's shoulders. Maura nestled her head into the side of Jane's chest. She felt the detective plant a kiss on the top of her head, and smiled.

It didn't take long for them to both drift off back to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

It was 10:00am when Frost arrived back at the hospital. He'd had a grand total of four hours' sleep, and was currently clutching desperately to his third cup of coffee of the morning. He met a bleary-eyed Korsak in the lobby. The two men exchanged a grunt of amicable greeting, but neither had the energy for more than that.

In silence, they shuffled past the ICU to where they'd been told Maura was. Outside room 26, Angela stood guard, like a maternal sentinel. She smiled, and put her finger to her lips as she saw them approach.

"How's Dr Isles?" Frost whispered.

Angela's smile broadened. She gestured for him to look through the small pane of glass in the closed door.

There on the bed, Maura and Jane were clearly fast asleep, snuggled close together. Jane had her arm around Maura, and the smaller woman was hugging it tight to herself, while the detective had thrown a protective leg over the doctor's knees and lower thigh.

Frost had seen a similar scene after Jane had taken a bullet a couple of years ago. Maura had refused to leave Jane for three days, and had slept tucked neatly against her unconscious friend the first night she was in hospital. He didn't think anyone else knew about that; in fact, he wasn't certain Jane was even aware of it. On top of that, Maura hadn't eaten for those whole three days out of worry: he'd had to carry her to his car in the end, to take her to get some food. She'd choked down a shitty burger and a milkshake in a crap diner, while he'd stood watch and refused to let her leave until she was done. Jane definitely didn't know about that part.

_Strawberry milkshake, _he recalled, thinking it was strange how much detail he remembered of that evening.

Grinning, he moved away from the window to let Korsak peer through. Vince chuckled quietly.

"Reckon that'll finally do the trick?"

Frost snorted. "I doubt it. For smart people, they really are stupid."

Vince shook his head, "Time will tell."

Maura snuffled in her sleep and burrowed tighter against Jane's body. In response, Frost saw the slumbering detective's arm twitch closer around the injured woman. Asleep, they were both completely unguarded. Awake, they didn't even seem to know how they felt about each other, in spite of how plain it was to anyone who knew them well, or who saw them interact together for any kind of period of time. It was poignant really.

Serious now, Korsak turned to Angela. "So, Dr Isles is ok?"

"It could take a little while, but she's going to make a full recovery. She's out of danger."

"I hate to wake them," Frost said slowly, "But we need them both to work with a sketch artist as soon as possible. We've got to find that shooter."

He and Korsak exchanged a meaningful glance.

Angela wrung her hands and flicked her eyes to the small window. "You mean you have to find him before Janie does."

"Pretty much," Korsak affirmed. "I spoke to Cavanaugh. He's given Jane a leave of absence for however long she needs, but I don't think it'll hold her back more than a few days. I wouldn't like to be in that punk's shoes if she got to him first."

Frost tapped gently on the window, and saw Jane languidly come to. She yawned broadly and twitched when she suddenly noticed his face framed in the window. With extreme care, she disentangled herself from Maura, who remained asleep, and tiptoed into the corridor.

"What?" she hissed, rubbing her eye with the back of her hand.

"How you doing?" Korsak asked. "Thought you could use some breakfast."

She spread her arms as if to ask where this breakfast was. Frost and Korsak seized the opportunity to take her by the elbows and drag her to the canteen.

"I'll stay with her," Angela said when Jane looked about to protest.

A few minutes – and a few swearwords from Jane – later, they reached the hospital cafeteria. Straightaway, Korsak loaded a plate full of bacon, eggs and buttered toast, while Frost put together a pot of fresh coffee. Both men watched Jane out of the corner of their eyes as she sat impatiently at a table in the corner, jiggling her leg agitatedly.

Vince dumped the plate in front of her. "Eat."

They sat either side of her, so that she couldn't stand up and leave. She looked from one to the other, then her shoulders slumped and she grabbed the fork Korsak held out for her.

"What have we got?" Jane asked between mouthfuls.

"So far, we think the gunman was a pro. It was a clean shot on the vic. From the look of the house, he was searching for something. Guess he can't have found it, else he wouldn't have still been there when we showed up." Frost told her.

"What about the dead guy?"

"It was his house. Jackson Spiller. No criminal record, nothing interesting showing up on his financials so far. Neighbours say he was pretty quiet, with no steady girlfriend, and just a few friends. Nice guy apparently."

"Nice guys don't get whacked by professional killers."

"True."

"Keep digging. Did the area canvas come up with anything?"

"Couple of neighbours heard movement in their back yards after the shots were fired. One saw a guy in black run past her window. We can pinpoint his escape route from that, and see if there are any CCTV cameras around, but I'm not too hopeful on that one."

"What about forensics?"

"They're working on everything now. Suzie's gonna call me as soon as it's processed."

"We'd like you to talk to a sketch artist." Korsak put in. "Maura too, once she's able. And we'll need statements from both of you."

"And," Frost began cautiously, "Since this guy is a pro, we're going to put a uniformed guard on Maura in case he comes back, and―"

"I'll be with her – she doesn't need a guard."

"With all due respect," Korsak said, "But where are you hiding a gun in those pants?"

"I―"

"Come off it, Jane, Dr Isles needs someone who's slept more than four hours in the past two days, and that rules all three of us out. Don't fight me on this."

Jane shrugged her acquiescence. "Suppose you're right."

"I _am_ right, ain't no 'suppose' about it." Korsak smiled affectionately to soften his words.

"Fine. You got a pen? I'll give you my statement."

"You sure you're ready?" Frost queried warily.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

* * *

When Jane got back, Maura and the surgeon who'd saved her life were flirting. She could tell from their body language. It made her want to hit something, but Jane made herself squash that feeling, as she always did. Their spoken language seemed to be entirely medical jargon, which she couldn't understand all of, but somehow Maura managed to make a pneumothorax sound sexy.

However, as soon as the surgeon caught sight of Jane standing with her arms crossed in the doorway, his manner changed completely. He offered Maura a polite farewell and hurried away.

"Sorry," he murmured as he passed Jane.

"Why was he apologising?" she asked nonchalantly.

"He thinks you're my wife."

"What!?"

"Apparently he came in last night while we were cuddled up together. He also said you almost tore his throat out when he wouldn't let you follow me into the operating theatre."

"Yeah, well, I was worried," Jane mumbled sheepishly.

Maura smiled that smile Jane couldn't read. It wasn't quite a smirk, but it was getting there. There was definitely a sparkle of _something _in it. She'd been doing that a lot recently.

Jane cleared her throat. "How're you feeling?"

"They seem to have me on a synthesis of diacetylmorphine."

"Is that good or bad?"

"It's an incredibly strong painkiller."

Jane rolled her eyes. "I repeat – is that good or bad?"

"I feel a bit odd."

"Odd? How?"

"Swirly."

"That doesn't help me."

Maura gestured loosely. "Well, Jane, it's essentially heroin. So, that kind of odd."

Jane flinched. "What?"

Maura giggled. She actually _giggled. _Not just giggled, but giggled like a young – but thoroughly mentally-disturbed – child. Jane had never heard that before. That kind of sound belonged in a horror film. It threw her off balance to hear it issue from the throat of her best friend. Wide eyed, with significantly dilated pupils, Maura clapped a hand over her mouth.

"I think I might be a little..." she paused, "I believe the popular term in England is 'smacked off my tits,' which is rather interesting really."

"You're actually _high _from this shit?" Jane sputtered, "Are you kidding me?"

"Jane, I'm recovering from some major internal trauma, could you not be so judgemental? Diacetylmorphine is perfectly legal in this circumstance. It's not even actually proper heroin they use on patients. Believe me, I'd be somewhat more perturbed if it was."

"Can we please not talk about you – the chief medical examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts – taking heroin in any form?"

"You're right – I suppose the press would love to run a story about Paddy Doyle's daughter being a drug addict."

"Maura, don't even."

The doctor smirked. "You're beautiful when you're frazzled."

Jane gave her a look.

"It's true! And you're all artfully dishevelled like you've been out all night. It's almost that 'just fucked' look."

The detective's jaw dropped. She'd never heard Maura curse like that before – the woman was always far too composed. Jane wasn't sure what she was more surprised about – the good doctor dropping an f bomb, or the thrill that had run through her as she'd said it.

"You seem like you don't know what to do with your elbows," Maura observed unhelpfully.

Jane put her hands awkwardly on her knees. Then quickly folded her arms and drummed her left fingers on her right bicep. She sighed and threw up her hands, "Now I really don't know what to do with them. I'm not certain I like you on drugs."

Dr Isles snorted with mirth. "You would if I wasn't bedridden, I'm sure," she teased.

A dozen conflicting voices piped up in the privacy of Jane's head. Some expressed agreement, which was potentially slightly worrying. Others were downright flirty – these she immediately dismissed and tried to forget about. Unable to articulate a decent, witty – yet appropriate – response in these conditions, she merely said: "I think I should speak to the nurses about adjusting your medication."

Maura laughed a blessedly normal laugh. "So serious, Rizzoli!"

"As a shark attack, Isles."

The doctor chortled again, and then sobered abruptly. "That might be for the best actually. I'd prefer to suffer with some discomfort, rather than risk any kind of withdrawal when I'm discharged. I'm pretty sure this was only for the initial waking period, but coming off of any kind of opiate is unpleasant, so it'd be nice of you to check. Even a simple course of codeine after a routine surgery can cause some unpleasant symptoms when it's finished."

"Exactly," said Jane, relieved.

"Besides, I've made you uncomfortable." Jane could tell Maura wasn't at all apologetic. In fact, it seemed quite the opposite. Clearly, she enjoyed finding new buttons to press.

Jane smiled, "Now I know a little of what you're like with fewer inhibitions. An insight into the forever enigmatic Dr Isles."

"I'm hardly enigmatic, Jane. I think sometimes you see right through me."

_Not as much as I'd like to, _Jane mused.

"Do me a favour though, Maura?"

"Anything."

"Please never giggle like that ever again."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Still amazed by the reaction to my little story. Mega love to all you people reading it. Huge thanks to everyone taking the time to write me such kind reviews. **

Chapter 7

Already bored of being confined to the hospital bed, Maura decided she wanted to test her legs. She hypothesised that there was enough analgesic in her blood to prevent movement hurting too much if she was unable to stand so well. She'd sent Jane off to her house to fetch her some bits and bobs, Angela was at work, and Vince and Frost were back at BPD working on her shooting.

_My shooting. _The words sounded so strange to her. Being shot was something that happened to other people. Maura only ever saw the aftermath.

There was a full-length mirror on the far side of the room, which she was interested to see herself in. She wanted to see the bullet hole that had almost taken her life. From talking to the surgeon, she knew that she had been extremely lucky. An inch or so higher, or even slightly to the left, and she might be lying in a morgue right now. Indeed, a little lower, and the bullet could have gone straight through her remaining kidney, which would have killed her relatively quickly, but that kind of wound inflicted too much pain for a person to even scream.

As she shifted her legs to dangle over the side of the bed, Maura could tell that she'd been greatly weakened by the injury, and the resulting surgery and medications. But she soldiered on anyway, more out of a perverse curiosity now, rather than boredom.

Agony suddenly stabbed straight into her chest. It pulsated violently and sent a spasm through her whole body. Tears of pain beaded in her eyes. Moving now went against the majority of her medical teaching, but she very much wanted to see the bullet hole for the first time when she was alone. It wasn't rational, but she was desperately scared of what her reaction to it would be, and she definitely didn't want anyone else to see her if she broke down. Maura Isles did _not_ break down in front of others.

Jane hovered around her as though she was terrified Maura would keel over and die at any moment. As much as she loved how much this showed the detective cared about her, it didn't leave her any time for herself. Angela didn't behave all that different to her daughter. On top of that, Constance Isles was currently on a plane back from Paris, which she calculated would land in about two hours. So this was really her only chance to investigate.

It didn't take long for the excruciating feeling to subside. Maura thought that the manoeuvre which would hurt the most was shunting herself forward with her arms onto her feet – it was quite a long way down to the floor – so she forced her body to do the movement as swiftly as humanly possible. It was the same psychology as ripping of a plaster, she knew. In reality, it didn't cause her too much pain; it simply pushed her off balance, and she had to flail to brace herself against the side of the bed before she toppled.

Maura would have hated to explain to Jane why she was sprawled on the floor when the detective returned. Jane would have been very far from impressed.

The tricky bit actually came now – her first step. In spite of her bravado, Maura's legs were shaky. She was glad that she could cling to the side of her bed for support. She bit her lip, anticipating pain, as she raised her foot from the floor. When nothing happened, she stood frozen – rather foolishly – on one leg, as though half-expecting the whole world to collapse.

It didn't. Maura glared suspiciously around the room, not trusting what she was feeling, waiting for the agony to kick in.

Yet still it didn't, for which she was incredibly grateful. There was nothing but a faint discomfort building somewhere; she couldn't tell what it was. Emboldened, she took another step, tugging the IV stand with her as she went. And then another, and another, until she found herself at the foot of her bed, ecstatic over what she had achieved. She was now directly in front of the mirror.

Maura blinked. She'd never seen her reflection look so wretched before. The bright artificial lights of the hospital whitened her skin to the point that she was close to resembling a walking corpse. The anaesthetic, which had dried out her mouth, had caused her lips to chap and split. Her makeup was smeared all around her eyes and her hair was matted and unkempt, with reddish brown stains at the ends where nobody had seen fit to clean the blood off of it.

Glad that she was alone, Maura let out a single, enormous, wracking sob, and clutched at her mouth to prevent a second from exploding forth. She wasn't sure what she had expected herself to look like, but this wasn't it.

With a trembling arm, she reached behind the back of her neck to untie her hospital gown. Now that really did hurt. The cords in her neck stood out as she struggled not to scream. The edges of her vision fuzzed in and out of focus. When her fingers touched the tie, she had to concentrate very hard on manipulating her hand to pull it loose. Even the tiny amount of strength it took to tug the string was almost too much for her.

Maura felt her body sway as the gown fell down about her ankles, leaving her wearing nothing but hospital-issue paper underpants, and a broad bandage that was heavily stuck down with translucent surgical tape.

She fixed her eyes intently on the old clock above the mirror, using it as a focal point to regain her balance. She watched a full three minutes tick by – they went slowly, as though they had nowhere better to be. Once vaguely sure she wouldn't collapse, Maura carefully teased up one corner of the surgical tape and suspiciously began to peel it back, wincing occasionally as it caught on her soft skin. She reached the bottom of the strip, and took a deep breath, before folding the bandage pad upwards to reveal the wound. She stopped suddenly when a shock of pain bolted across her synapses. It felt as thought she'd been shot all over again. A wisp of the dressing material had bonded itself into the dry blood at one side of the bullet hole. With tears stinging in her eyes, and undisguised whimpering vibrating from her mouth, Maura yanked it free.

She half-shouted, half-moaned a string of profanity as agony stabbed into her abdomen. She doubled over and coughed wretchedly, praying for the excruciating sensations to cease.

Maura found herself making trying to make deals with the pain. _Please, just stop; I promise I'll never get out of bed again. _Each new attempt to placate it came with a fresh gouge of agony, until Maura wasn't sure she even knew how to think anymore.

"Stop," she groaned aloud. "Please."

She didn't even notice the anxious hand on her shoulder, nor did she hear the terrified chain of questions that preceded it. Maura simply stared at the small, round hole and the reddened area of skin around it, and struggled not to howl with the hurt. It was about the size of the pad of her thumb, but the darkened flesh around it was a larger mark, almost like a splat of puce.

"Maura!" cried a raspy voice. It sounded like it was coming from a very long way away. The hand was still on her shoulder, but it didn't feel like her shoulder anymore.

With a peculiar, horrified detachment, Maura watched dribble of blood pooled in the centre of the wound. All the tension and stress of agony has split her stitches. Clouds formed around her brain, nebulous and fickle; they clutched at her the way factory smoke would wrap its arms around the sky. Her eyelids flickered.

She passed out.

She didn't even notice Jane's hands reaching around her to catch her before she fell.

* * *

Jane had only intended this to be a brief visit, before she left to pick up Constance from Logan International. Instead, she had arrived to find Maura doubled up in pain, semi-naked and mewling wretchedly. She'd been so shocked that it had taken her more than it should have done to stir her limbs into a reaction.

Blurting out a series of queries she couldn't even remember after the fact, Jane had rushed to Maura, whose lack of response scared her more than the sight she had originally beheld. When the blood started to ooze from between the sutures, Jane felt her heart stop.

Screaming for a medic for the second time in as many days, Jane managed to catch Maura as the other woman tumbled into unconsciousness. Fortunately, she was light-weight and Jane was strong from years of police fitness programmes. The detective was able to carry her to her bed with one arm resting in the crook of Maura's knees, the other wrapped around her back; it was tragically reminiscent of a newlywed groom carrying his wife. In spite of the fear rushing through her, Jane had to force herself not to notice Maura's nudity. Especially the way her skin felt so soft under her scarred hands.

She gently deposited her precious burden back on the bed. Maura's fall had yanked the wires from the heart monitor affixed to her chest, and as a result the machines were beeping like crazy. Jane could barely hear herself think as the resulting flurry of nurses and doctors shoved her into a corner out of the way. Trapped, she could nothing but watch as they wheeled in the crash cart, ready to shock Maura's body with a violent jolt of electricity.

"No!" Jane shouted, "Look at her chest! The wires!"

The nurse wielding the defibrillator paddles heard her just in the nick of time, and yanked them away from Maura's body. Another nurse reattached the cables and sent the sound of a blessedly normal heart rate echoing through the suddenly silent room.

After a few bleeps, Jane allowed herself to breathe again. The hospital staff disappeared as quickly as they had arrived, leaving the room feeling strangely empty.

"I'll be back to check her stitches over in a couple of minutes," one nurse threw over her shoulder as she left.

"The fuck were you thinking, Maura?" Jane whispered to her unconscious friend.

With two fingers, she tenderly pushed a lock of hair from Maura's forehead, and cursed herself for the caress that accompanied that simple gesture.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"You saw her naked?" Frost asked, surprised.

Jane huffed out a sigh. "Pretty much, yeah."

"How was that?"

"Traumatic."

"Oh."

"What did you expect me to say? She was crying in agony and bleeding all over the place. In what way is that possibly titillating? Besides, it's _Maura. _She's my best friend. Seeing her naked is no big deal."

"Sure." Frost rolled the word around his mouth, lengthening the vowel sound.

Jane cocked her head to one side and frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He raised one hand in a placating gesture and smiled. "Nothing, sorry. Carry on."

It was Thursday night. Or rather, as Jane had come to think of it, it was five days after the shooting. She hadn't seen Frost since he and Korsak had taken her statement on Sunday morning. Two hours ago, he'd showed up at the hospital, where she and Constance had been watching Maura sleep in awkward silence. As much as Jane liked Maura's mother, they only had so much to talk about together before they started clutching at conversational straws. Both intelligent people, they sensed when that began happening, and elected to stay quiet instead of saying anything foolish. When one asked the other about the weather, they knew it was time to quit. Personally, Jane always wanted to make a good impression on this debonair woman. And for her part, Constance wanted to stay in the good books of a woman who was clearly more important to Maura than her daughter let on.

Frost had come into the room without bothering to knock. Angela had been with him, and she'd smiled at Constance, genuinely pleased to see her.

Frost had jerked his head in the direction of the hallway. "Jane, a word?"

"What? You made a breakthrough?"

"We're getting out of here. Now. Get your stuff, and don't argue with me."

"Hang on, I―"

He'd cut her off with a stern look. She hadn't even known his face could do that.

"Fine," she'd huffed. "Where are we going?"

"The Dirty Robber. You need a beer. You've not left her side in days. Angela tells me you've even been sleeping here. It's not good for you. I know Maura's getting better; you don't need to be here constantly."

Jane wished she'd been able to dispute that, but she'd known Frost was right. In fact, she'd not been home in so long that she knew she was beginning to smell. Not noticeably to anyone else – unless they put their nose in her armpit – but enough that she'd known she couldn't argue with the guy.

After checking with Constance and taking one last look at the peaceful Maura, Jane had agreed to go, provided they went via her apartment so she could shower and put on some clean clothes. Now here they were in a corner booth in the Dirty Robber with a beer in hand and some quality cheese on the jukebox. For the first half an hour, she'd had her phone glued to her hand, fearing it would blow up with some new medical drama, but now she had finally loosened up. Jane had to admit she felt better – more relaxed than she'd felt in a week.

"Did Dr Isles say why she'd got up like that?" Frost queried.

"Scientific curiosity," Jane told him exasperatedly, rolling her eyes.

Frost sighed and shook his head. "Crazy. What happened?"

"They had to redo some of her sutures and give her a dose of painkillers, but it doesn't seem to have done any more damage. Might scar a little worse now though, I guess, but who knows?"

"At least she didn't do any real harm."

Jane nodded. "Scared the shit out of me though. So I guess I should thank you for getting me out of the hospital."

Frost smiled. "No problem," he told her genuinely. "I did the same for Maura when it was you with the bullet hole."

"Really?"

"More than once actually. But I brought her here about a week after you got shot. She drank a whole bottle of wine to herself that night. Tempranillo, of course. Said she needed something full-bodied."

Jane laughed. "Of course she did."

As she brought her bottle to her lips, she noticed a woman come through the door and head to sit at the bar. Frost followed her eyes. The woman was lithe and relatively tall – though probably shorter than Jane – with a shock of short, ash blonde hair that was cut in an artfully tousled style. She wore Ray-Ban style plastic spectacles and black eyeliner. Her black jeans were tight enough to see the muscles of her calf flex as she walked, and she wore a burgundy top that clung to her in all the right places. A chunky silver ring adorned the middle finger of her left hand.

Her head cocked slightly to one side, she watched as the woman mounted a stool at the bar, and proceeded to get herself a pint. Jane took a mouthful of her own beer as the blonde flicked a glance their way, and tried to cover how she was scrutinising her. As Jane quickly turned back to Frost, she was certain she saw the ghost of a smirk float across the other woman's face.

"Cute," observed Frost.

Taking another pull of her beer, Jane sneaked a peek back at the blonde woman, who had pulled out a book. "We'll get a couple more drinks in you, and see if you have the courage to talk to her."

"Ha, maybe."

"In fact," Jane tilted her beer, checking how much there was left. "I think it's your round right now."

Frost went up to the bar, and stood a careful distance from the blonde. He returned quickly, and they drank their beer amidst amicable conversation. Then it was Jane's turn. As she waited to be served, she found herself watching the woman in the periphery of her vision. Jane couldn't tell what the blonde was reading as her long fingered hand obscured the front cover. The tip of her tongue flicked out to wet the end of her forefinger before she turned a page. Jane swallowed.

The bartender clunked two bottles of beer down in front of her, jerking her attention away. Jane paid up quickly and was waiting for her change when the blonde spoke.

"_The Master and Margarita_," she said. Her voice had a mid-range pitch, and it sounded kind of like honey. English accent too.

"Sorry, what?" Jane said inelegantly.

The woman smiled and took her hand off the paperback; it had some creepy shadow puppets on the front. "My book. You were looking at it."

"Oh, thanks," Jane rushed. "Is it good?"

"One of the best. Classic, really."

"Fantastic!" she said far too enthusiastically. Then blushed, picked up her beers, shrugged and walked away as fast as she could without seeming rude.

"You make a friend?" Frost quipped before she'd even sat down. He'd seen the way the blonde had watched Jane walk away.

Jane shrugged and changed the subject to the last Red Sox game. That was safe ground. She didn't want to tell Frost how the woman's smile had made her stomach flip. Or how that accent made her feel a little warm under the collar.

As the next hour and a half passed, the two detectives got through several more bottles of beer. The woman at the bar also got through a few more drinks, and began to shoot glances at the booth where Jane and Frost sat.

"She's looking at you, Frost," Jane told him, with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows.

Frost didn't have the heart to tell her the blonde wasn't his type. Plus he was certain _he _wasn't her type either. In fact, he was sure she was looking at Jane. Each glance their way conveyed more and more interest, until he could pick up a definite degree of hunger in her eyes. Jane seemed carefully oblivious.

It was Jane's turn to get the next round, and she approached the bar with some trepidation, hoping the blonde wouldn't try and speak to her again. She didn't get her wish. The book disappeared into a bag almost as soon as Jane ordered her drinks.

"Hey," said the woman. "I'm bored of my book."

"Thought you said it was a classic." Jane couldn't help the flirtatious undertone that crept into her voice.

The woman laughed. She had a nice laugh. "I'm Alex."

"Jane."

"So, are you and your friend together?"

"Er," Jane said gauchely. "We're here together, but we're not _together _together, you know?"

"Does that mean I can get you a drink?"

"Me?" she blurted, genuinely surprised. "Why dyou want to buy me a drink?"

"I think you're really sexy."

At some point in the conversation, Alex had moved closer. Her sudden proximity was somewhat startling, and Jane could feel the eyes of the other patrons on them. The blonde smelt like bergamot and jasmine; the scent was going rapidly to Jane's head.

Taking her lack of response as ascent, Alex laid a hand on her bicep. "What're you drinking?"

"I'm not," Jane told her, slightly louder than was necessary. "I'm not gay."

Alex raised a sculpted eyebrow. "You're not?"

"No!"

The blonde didn't look convinced. "Shit," she said anyway. "Sorry, Jane, you had me confused there."

"Sorry," Jane muttered brusquely. This time when she walked away from Alex, she didn't worry about seeming rude; she just wanted to get away.

She slammed the two beers down on their table so hard Frost jumped, and foam rose from the top of the bottles.

"Jesus, Rizzoli, what's up with you now?"

"That woman hit on me."

"So what?" Frost said, mystified. "You get that all the time. Why are you so pissed at her?"

Jane put her bottle to her mouth, but didn't drink. She paused a moment, asking herself the same question. _I do get that all the time, _she mused. _Don't normally give a damn... _In fact, usually she was flattered by the attention. So why was this time different?

Bashing the drink back down on the table, Jane swore vehemently. Beer splattered across the wood.

"What the fuck, Jane?"

She shut her eyes, feeling emotions roll around painfully in her stomach. "Because I'm actually attracted to this one," she rasped softly.

Immediately, she clapped a hand over her mouth and her eyes darted to Frost, praying he hadn't heard her, wishing she could take back the words she hadn't meant to let leave her lips. His expression told her he had. There was no surprise on his face. Instead, he was looking at her with such a depth of compassion and understanding that it took her breath away. His hand wrapped around her clenched fist.

"It's ok, Jane. Really, it is."

"Stop it."

"What?"

"Stop being so supportive."

"How else would you expect me to be?"

She belatedly remembered his mother was married to another woman. Jane didn't know what she had anticipated would happen if she ever admitted such a thing out loud, but now she had. At the back of her mind, she'd always thought that the world would collapse around her shoulders.

That didn't seem to be happening.

Instead, Frost was smiling at her and holding her hand tightly.

"You feel attracted to a woman – so what?" he said calmly. "It happens."

"I never wanted it to happen to me."

"Pretty sure nobody ever does. That doesn't mean it's wrong."

"I know."

Jane let out an enormous sigh. If she thought about it – _really _thought about it – then she'd known for a decade or more that she was attracted to women. In the past six months, it had reached the point where it was essentially exclusively women she found herself drawn to. As a kid, she'd mistaken such feelings for jealousy. She'd figured more out in her early twenties – there'd been a few pretty lame experiments – but since then, she'd ignored this burgeoning side to her sexuality purely because it didn't fit into the life she'd always pictured herself living. Denial came easy to her. More than anything, she hated the notion of being a disappointment to anyone.

"Please," she began slowly. "Can we forget I said anything?"

Frost smiled. "No," he said simply.

Jane glared at him. "Just for now?"

"For now, maybe. But it's out there now, Jane. Saying something aloud is how you get closer to accepting it. And you really gotta accept this. It'll rip you apart otherwise. I saw my mum go through similar. Don't be a dick to yourself – it doesn't help."

Suddenly less eager to drop the subject, Jane raked a hand through her hair agitatedly. "I know it's ok to feel like I do sometimes, but I find it really hard to be rational about it. The idea scares me – the idea I might be..." She trailed off.

"Gay?" Frost finished for her.

"I'm not gay," she shot back.

He gave her a look that plainly said he wasn't about to accept any bullshit from her on this score.

"Shit. Fine, I might be gay."

"Good for you, Janie. I'm proud."

"Fuck you, Frost. Stop being so nice, or I'm going to cry, and I really don't want to cry."

He laughed. Jane could tell he couldn't help it – it was more a release of pressure, rather than true mirth. She cracked a smile too, feeling strangely light and empty, as though something important she had been carrying for a long time had abruptly been taken away from her. Intellectually, she knew nobody would give a shit if she wasn't straight – not even her mother. This was Boston, not North Carolina. But still, it felt like 'gay' was a word too big for her. She didn't think it fit. Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn't. Either way, relief surged through her so strongly that it was almost violent.

Jane downed her beer in one. "I need another drink after that."

* * *

Frost raised his tenth beer of the night. "Here's to nobody else getting shot!"

Jane lifted her drink. "I hear that."

They chugged a few mouthfuls in solidarity. The beer was ice cold, and it was exactly what both of them needed. There had been tequila somewhere along the line, and now they were both somewhat intoxicated. Neither cared.

"And here's to Maura," Jane said quietly.

"Maura," Frost agreed softly.

There was a long silence.

"I've been thinking about that," she started to say, and caught herself when she slurred a little. She sounded like her thoughts were unravelling.

Another long silence.

"Imagine you're morbidly obese―" Jane suddenly blurted.

"Where is this going?"

"― and you've been tied up in a cellar for ages and then somebody comes and waves a slice of cake at you. It's what you've been craving forever. Like, _forever._"

"Are women the cake in this situation?"

"Just one woman," she corrected shyly.

"Maura is cake?" Frost asked; he'd had too much alcohol for correct grammar.

"No way, Maura's too classy for that. She's..." Jane paused and gestured sloppily with her beer bottle. "She's like a fucking soufflé, man."

"Your analogies suck, but I think I know what you mean. You should do something about it. Before the cake goes stale, I mean. Or the soufflé collapses."

Jane looked at him like he'd grown an extra head. She concentrated very hard on focussing her booze-fuzzed eyes. "Soufflés don't collapse," she said, as though talking to a person of limited mental dexterity.

"Yes they do."

"I swear that's flans―"

"Can you cook?"

"Not really, but―" This time she cut herself off with a sharp hand gesture. "This is a stupid conversation."

"Yeah, I repeat – your analogies are a pile of shit. Back to the point."

"She only sees me as a friend."

"Are you kidding me?" Frost exclaimed forcefully. "You two have been in love for years. Years! The whole of Homicide sees it, and most of CSRU. We only stopped short of an office poll because your mum found out and threw a shit-fit about us placing bets."

"You fuckers! I can't believe―"

"It was a while ago and it wasn't serious either. Point still stands. Maura sees you as more than a friend."

"How can I be sure?"

"The woman took a goddamn bullet for you, Jane. Trust me."

"What if she doesn't?"

"What if she does?" He countered sharply.

"I think that's even scarier."

"Don't be pathetic. Just stick your tongue down her throat or whatever."

Jane backhanded his arm clumsily. "Come off it!"

"If you don't do something soon, one of you is going to explode. And you'll regret it if you don't."


	9. Chapter 9

Maura was awoken by a loud clatter outside her door. She flinched, shrinking down into her pillows in the hope that any intruder wouldn't notice her. In spite of the uniformed guard who stood watch in the corridor, she was still deathly scared that the gunman would come back to finish what he'd started. He'd told her he couldn't let her live after she'd seen his face, and she believed him. At night, she was grateful for the guard. She certainly did not want to be knifed in her sleep by a nameless killer. Or by any kind of killer for that matter.

However, she was more than sure that a killer wouldn't have such trouble with opening the door, nor would a killer laugh in the midst of such fumbling. Whoever was struggling outside kept making hushing noises, as though they could silence an inanimate object. Somewhat belatedly, she recognised the laugh as Jane's.

The clock on her bedside table told her it was four in the morning.

With a final rattle, the detective succeeded in opening the door, and staggered inside. Maura could immediately tell that she was significantly intoxicated. She wondered how the other woman had managed to get here from the Dirty Robber, and hoped desperately that Jane hadn't driven in this condition.

Jane had a lopsided grin on her face. She crossed the distance from the door to the bed slowly, carefully placing each step. When she finally arrived, her smile broadened and grew slightly more central to the rest of her face as she saw that Maura's eyes were open and looking at her.

"You're awake!" she said happily.

"Funny that," Maura quipped.

Jane's face fell. "Did I wake you?"

Maura imagined that Jane may well have woken half the hospital, but she chose not to voice that opinion.

"It's ok, Jane."

"I'm sorry, Maura, I just wanted to see you. I didn't want you to be lonesome."

Swaying, Jane gazed at her expectantly, like a shy overgrown child waiting hesitantly for approval. Maura squeezed her hand gently and smiled.

"That's very thoughtful of you."

The grin was back, enormous; it made her look adorably simple. Maura couldn't help but beam back.

"How did you get here?" she asked.

"Walked."

"You walked all the way here from the Robber?" Maura exclaimed. "That must have taken ages!"

"Worth it," Jane slurred.

"So, drinks with Frost were a success, then?"

Jane nodded. "I feel better now. Even though my head is full of thing. Fluff. Full of fluff."

"I think you'll find that's alcohol, Jane, not fluff."

"We talked too," the detective burbled on, seeming not to have noticed Maura speak. "Talked and talked and things and then Frost was all cool about shit. Frost's always cool, don't you think? Cool like a frosty thing. Not cold though. His mum's married to a woman, yaknow. I like Frost. Not as much as I like you, but he's nice too."

Maura gaped, wondering how Jane had managed to say all that without drawing barely a breath. She also wasn't sure which parts warranted a response, or indeed what to say. She'd never been very good at interpreting drunken talk.

Jane laughed a strange laugh. "There was a woman there and she was cute and she wanted to buy me and drink and sex me up, but I didn't want a drink and it was awkward. Women like me, Maura. Women of the woman variety. Female ones."

"Some certainly seem to," Maura replied neutrally.

"I don't mind. I like 'em too."

Maura wasn't sure if that was an admission or not. Could the pieces be finally starting to fall into place for Jane? For a woman who solved far more complex problems on a daily basis, the detective was remarkably obtuse with regard to her own feelings. Her intellect failing her, Maura groped unsuccessfully for something to say, for a way to approach the subject in a way that Jane wouldn't run from. She came up empty, and the silence between them stretched. Fortunately, the intoxicated woman didn't seem to notice. She was humming something and staring off into the middle distance.

"I should sleep this off." Jane said suddenly.

"That would probably be wise."

"I'm really fucking drunk."

"Yes."

"Sorry. Had to blow off some steam."

"I completely understand." After all, Maura had done almost exactly the same when their roles had been reversed. She distinctly remembered the crippling headache that had followed the next day, and hoped that Jane wouldn't suffer too much.

Jane grinned once more. "I knew you would. You get me. You're the best friend in all the world. Shit, you're more than that."

"More?" Maura said quietly.

Jane put a hand on Maura's face. Maura assumed it was supposed to be laid across her cheek, but Jane's aim was off, and instead she was obscuring most of the doctor's head.

"Jane?" Maura asked; her stomach was tight, her voice muffled by Jane's palm. "I'm more than a friend to you?"

"Mmmhmmm," Jane agreed. "_You_, Dr Isles, are a soufflé."

With that perplexing statement, the detective delivered a clumsy kiss to Maura's forehead, then curled up in and ball on the floor and promptly passed out.

"I'm a soufflé." Maura repeated blankly. _Is that a good sign? Is it some kind of lesbian slang?_

She'd known – of course she'd known – for a fair while how Jane felt about her. How could she not? Every look, every touch, every action confirmed it. They had an attraction that was palpable. Maura had felt it the first time Jane had strutted into her autopsy room, clad in one of her power suits, with her hair flowing free and a cocky smirk on her face. She'd wondered right then and there if the detective was gay, but it had taken a while for anything resembling proof to begin to surface. Jane – bless her – tried so very hard to be heterosexual, but it wasn't working for her. Maura didn't think it was a conscious attempt to be straight, merely something that was built into her psyche.

For her part, Maura had felt an attraction to this newly appointed homicide detective hit her like a lightning bolt. It had been rather distracting. But then Jane had opened her mouth, and shattered the ME's fantasy of the woman. Truth be told, Maura had hated her for a long while when they'd first met. Jane had been brusque, intimidating and rude, and it had taken the doctor a fair amount of time to crack the facade that Jane presented to those she didn't know. But then the detective gradually stopped being such an ass and actually let Maura get to know her properly, and Maura hadn't stood a chance. Jane was fiercely loyal, intelligent and strong, with a wicked sense of humour. The attraction returned at once, stronger than ever, and had developed rapidly into what Maura could only call _feelings. _

Irrationally, such feelings had scared her. Maura Isles wasn't someone who let herself feel things like that easily. In fact, she hadn't felt this way about anyone since Ian had broken her heart. She'd never expected to be so attracted to a woman either. As a teenager, she'd had a crush on a girl in her class. Then, in her first year of medical school, she'd become involved with a female TA in her department. Neither had ended particularly well. And neither of those instances could possibly compare with the way she felt about Jane. They fit well together, and each complemented the other. Jane's sarcasm was an excellent foil for Maura's erudite awkwardness. Maura's logical approach balanced Jane's gut instinct. It was why they worked so well as a working partnership, and the doctor knew that this would likely translate equally well in a relationship.

The only problem was Jane herself. Beautiful, smart, brilliant Jane, who refused to feel. Who refused to see what was right in front of her. Who refused to see what was obvious to everyone else. Who was so wilfully oblivious to Maura's subtle hints. Who really was an idiot at times.

There was no malice in it, just blindness. Any attempt to move Jane in the right direction would have pushed her completely the opposite way, so Maura had been waiting for Jane to figure herself out. It felt like she'd been waiting for an eternity.

But Jane's drunken honesty – though Maura was at a loss to discern what some of it meant – had triggered an excitement within her chest that she could barely contain. She wanted to jump about, but instead she was forced to stay still in her bed. It sounded like Jane's brain might finally be catching up with her heart.

* * *

Morning found Jane lying in a ball of pain on the floor, clutching her head and trying desperately not to whimper too loudly. The nurse who came to check Maura's blood pressure and stitches simply ignored her and stepped over her body.

Jane's tongue was gummed to the roof of her mouth and it took some effort to get it mobile again. Her teeth felt like they were covered in fur and she could taste stale alcohol at the back of her throat. She sucked on the inside of her cheek to try and wet her horribly dry mouth with saliva. Her eyes squinted against the light of the room, Jane could see there was a fresh jug of water on Maura's bedside table. Condensation beaded on the outside and ran down the glass. Jane imagined licking it.

Cautiously, she tried raising her head, but this sent the room spinning. Reeling, Jane threw herself flat and shut her eyes tightly, praying for the sensation to subside. Her brain felt like some kind of tequila demon had glued it to the inside of her skull.

"How you doing down there?" Maura's chipper voice floated down from somewhere above her head.

Jane groaned.

"You seem to be suffering from veisalgia," Maura told her cheerily.

"What?" the detective mumbled.

"Veisalgia is the scientific name for a hangover. It comes from the Norwegian word _kveis, _meaning'uneasiness after debauchery,' and from the Greek word _algia_, which means pain. Personally, I quite like that the Norwegians have such a word. I find English somewhat lacking in that regard."

Jane winced and covered her ears. "Please stop shouting."

She whimpered, not caring how pathetic she sounded. Even her own voice sounded deafening to her.

"Your head hurts because your organs have sapped water from your brain to combat the dehydrating effects of alcohol, which has caused it to shrink and now the membranes which hold it in place inside your skull are being stretched." Maura told her helpfully.

Every syllable hammered a new nail of pain into her head. "You aren't making me feel better," Jane whispered feebly.

"You won't feel better for a while," the doctor said matter-of-factly, "Judging from your state of inebriation last night."

_Oh god. _Jane sat up sharply and immediately regretted it as a wave of nausea buffeted her. She swallowed hard and rode it through, concentrating on how incredibly embarrassing it would be if she were to vomit in front of Maura. The fact this was self-inflicted made it worse.

"I... I wasn't out of line with you last night, was I?" Jane asked nervously, "Like, I didn't say anything stupid, did I?"

"You rambled about how 'cool' you thought Detective Frost was, then called me a soufflé and passed out."

"Did I explain the soufflé thing?" Jane asked slowly, her heart sinking. If Maura knew what that meant, she might freak out. In cold light of day, she couldn't believe this beautiful woman could possibly share the feelings she had just begun to recognise.

"No, you were unconscious before I could even ask. Why am I a meringue-based dessert?"

"I don't know," Jane lied uncomfortably. "I suppose it must have made sense at the time, but I can't remember now. Anything else?"

"You seemed vaguely perturbed that a woman had tried to hook into you."

"Hook up with," Jane corrected with a tense smile. "I feel bad about that – she was nice."

"Cute too, apparently."

"I said that? Wow, must have been even drunker than I thought." It was a poor lie, and they both knew there was more to it than that, but Jane felt like she needed to keep up appearances in spite of the confession she had made to Frost the previous evening.

"Must have been," Maura stated coolly.

"Could you call the nurse and tell her to bring me a bacon sandwich?" Jane asked, changing the subject quickly.

Maura laughed. "No, I'm afraid that button is only for me, and should really only be used in emergencies."

"This _is _an emergency," Jane moaned, "I'm dying here."

"Oh Jane, you aren't dying. It'll pass. What did you drink?"

"Beer. Then tequila. Frost is a terrible influence."

"I expect he's suffering just as badly today."

"I doubt it – bastard at least got to sleep in a bed last night."

"Well," Maura pursed her lips, "It's your own fault you're here."

"I didn't like the idea of you being here all alone. Not exactly practical for me to show up here at 4am, I suppose. I have no idea how I even got inside the hospital, let alone past the guard outside. I wouldn't have let me in."

"I'm glad you came."

"Really?" Jane asked in her trademark style.

"Yes. How else would I have witnessed this paragon of wretchedness? You're really quite entertaining."

The detective sagged back down to the floor. "I hate you sometimes."

"No, you don't," Maura said playfully.

"No, I don't," Jane agreed begrudgingly, "But still. Shut up."


	10. Chapter 10

"Well, Dr Isles, I think you should be fine to go home in a day or two," the surgeon was saying as he listened to her breathe. "Your wound seems to be healing up nicely, and judging by the sounds in your chest, your lung has repaired itself. You'll have to take it easy, and come in fairly often so we can check your progress, but aside from that, you're alright. I would recommend a leave of eight weeks from work, so you can be assured a full recovery."

From her position on the floor, Jane let out a feeble, hungover cheer. Angela – who had arrived an hour ago – echoed her sentiment. The elder Rizzoli had been significantly unimpressed to find her daughter in such a state, but had afforded her a grilled cheese sandwich nonetheless. The greasy food had made Jane feel considerably better, but still not well enough to gravitate into a chair. The floor felt safest. Maura, damn her, found the whole thing terribly amusing. Jane supposed she couldn't really blame her.

"I can go home?" Maura said tremulously. After almost a week in hospital, she could scarcely believe she was going to finally be well enough to leave.

"You can go home," the surgeon smiled. "Soon."

Maura laughed with relief. She was looking forward to being able to wear clothes, and underwear. Real underwear! Not the paper panties she'd been wearing here. She was missing proper food too. She positively salivated at the thought of being able to sample Angela Rizzoli's cooking again.

More than that, Maura was desperately eager to resume her life. Being shot had thrust her into a strange limbo, where everything was slightly dreamlike, and everyday living was something that happened elsewhere.

Jane's phone buzzed, marring the happy moment.

"Rizzoli."

Maura peered over the edge of the bed, watching the detective. Hangover forgotten, Jane's body language had shifted. She was in work mode now. The conversation was quick, with whoever was on the other end of the line doing most of the talking.

"Okay, I'll be there right away." Jane said, and hung up. "Korsak has a lead. I've got to go."

"You're on leave, Janie," Angela reminded her gently.

Maura knew that wouldn't make a difference. When homicide had a case, Jane sank her teeth in and didn't let go until she'd seen it through. Since the victim was someone close to her, the detective certainly wasn't going to let it slide. Not even Lieutenant Cavanaugh would be able to stop her from being involved. In fact, Maura thought it was probably best to have Jane working with the BPD on this. Kicking her off the case could turn her into a violent vigilante, and that wouldn't end well for anyone concerned.

"I gotta do this, Ma."

Angela sighed ruefully. "I know. Go do your thing."

Jane got up carefully and moved like someone who was afraid their head was going to fall off, and was thus trying not to joggle it. It was strange to watch. She hugged her mother, and then – without thinking – kissed Maura's cheek and headed out the door.

Angela rubbed her face to hide a smile. She could see how pleased that kiss had made Maura. The medical examiner unconsciously touched the spot where Jane's lips had been.

* * *

Heads turned as Jane entered BPD headquarters. Wary surprise registered on a lot of faces, sometimes combined with pity. Her expression stony, she ignored them as best she could. Nobody tried to talk to her. It probably didn't help that she was in last night's rumpled clothes. She hadn't had the energy to change, nor did she want to spare the time to go back to her apartment. She was too eager to find out what Korsak had managed to learn.

The first twenty four hours after a crime were critical. So much time had passed since the shooting that she knew Korsak and Frost were starting to get frustrated. The whole homicide department was desperate for a lead. Most people thought Maura was weird, but she was well-liked and respected. This was personal for all of them. _Almost too personal_, Janereflected.

As she entered the homicide division, she saw Korsak hurriedly cover the familiar photo of Maura's blood all over the floor. He tried, but he wasn't a subtle man. Jane did appreciate the attempt though – she didn't think she could ever see that image without wanting to cry. It was bad enough that it was burnt into her memory so indelibly.

"Rizzoli!" Cavanaugh shouted as he saw her. Jane winced, anticipating him telling her to get the hell out of there. She opened her mouth, ready to defend herself. But instead, quite unexpectedly, he gave her a short, awkward hug, and then – looking embarrassed – immediately retreated back into his office.

"Surreal," she murmured. This shooting was certainly bringing out facets of some people that she hadn't known about before.

She felt vindicated to note that Frost had dark circles under his eyes, and was moving slightly slower than usual. Flooded with delicious schadenfreude, she watched him yawn broadly and then rub his temples as if trying to dissipate a headache. She was glad he was hungover too. _Suffering from viesalgia, _she corrected, hearing it in Maura's voice and smiling.

"What have you got?" Jane asked the two men. She wanted to get straight to the point, and she knew neither of them would begrudge her lack of preamble.

"CCTV six blocks from the crime scene picked up a guy that matches the sketch of the unsub we had drawn up. It shows him getting into a car." Korsak explained.

"You trace it?"

"It's a rental. Hired two days before the shooting from a dealership at Logan International. We have a name – Martin Thomas – but it's an alias."

Jane sighed. "Damn."

Frost held up a hand. "Gets better. Uniforms showed the sketch around at the airport. Staff remember the guy. We found out he flew in from Charlotte last Thursday. He paid cash for his flight, but as far as we know, he used his real passport."

"So you've got an ID?"

"James Saunders. He's got no priors, but he's smart. No permanent address, no phone or anything registered to him. Just a Utah driver's license."

"We ran the Martin Thomas alias." Korsak chipped in. "Nothing attached to that name except a bank account on the Cayman Islands, which has two hundred grand in it. The money was deposited three weeks ago."

"Where from?"

"We're running it now. But I'm willing to bet it's from whoever paid him to kill our vic and toss his house."

"You got an APB out?"

"Yep. And we're chasing down the hire car. There's been no activity on either of the names we have, so I reckon our hitman is still in Boston."

"You think he's got more than one target here?"

Frost shrugged. "Hard to tell. Maybe he just stays wherever until he gets another job. It's a start though, Jane. We're getting there. We'll nail this bastard."

Jane chewed the side of her thumb thoughtfully. It was definitely a start. "So, we need to make sure Saunders doesn't leave Boston, and find out who paid him to kill our victim. Do we have any idea what he was looking for?"

Vince shook his head. "Vic was an IT tech with a major law firm. I figure it must be something to do with that."

"Makes sense, I guess."

Jane put her hands in her pockets self-consciously. It felt strange being here like this – on leave, but still investigating the shooting of her best friend.

"You look as rough as Frost. Can't handle your liquor?" Korsak joked.

"I don't think many people would be able to handle the amount we drank last night," Jane said, amused.

Frost groaned. "Don't remind me. How's the doc today?"

"Doing good. The surgeon says she can go home in a couple of days. In fact," Jane looked at her watch, "I should probably get back there. Ma has to go to work, and Constance is still on Italian time, so she's probably asleep. I gotta keep Maura company. Give me a copy of the case file to take away?"

"Sure," Korsak said, and wandered over to the photocopier.

Frost sidled close to Jane and lowered his voice. "You feeling okay about our conversation last night?" he asked; his brown eyes were full of concern.

She smiled. "I'm getting there. I'll feel better when Maura gets out the hospital."

"I hear that."

"You need a lift back there?"

Jane laughed. "My car's still over by the Robber. I can't remember exactly where I parked it though, so yeah, that'd be really handy."

After getting Korsak's assurances that he would call her as soon as he found out anything else, Jane allowed Frost to lead her back through headquarters. As they came out into the lobby, Frankie joined them.

"All okay?" he asked simply.

"All good." Jane agreed.

As she hugged her brother in greeting, Jane caught sight of the two officers – Burke and Smith – who'd been first on scene the previous weekend. They were both wearing suits and looking indignant. They looked like they were deep in a heated conversation with two uniformed cops.

"Cavanaugh ripped them both a new one," Frankie explained under his breath. "They've been suspended without pay for severe negligence."

"I'd do more than suspend them," Jane spat vehemently.

He grabbed her wrist as she lengthened her stride and pulled her up short. "Don't."

"Maura could have died."

"But she didn't. Please, Jane."

Jane didn't answer. Her fingers twitched, involuntarily forming fists, as she glared across the foyer. She longed to smack the shit out the two incompetent assholes. Maybe that would knock some sense into them. If she had been in their position, she would have been distraught at the idea that her oversight almost got someone killed. Burke and Smith didn't look remorseful though – they looked pissed off.

"It ain't fair," Smith was saying, "Dumb bitch should have checked it. It's that fucking dyke Rizzoli's fault the doc got shot."

Burke snorted. "Yeah, bro. And now we're suspended? What did Rizzoli get? Nothing. Fuck that. Stupid mother―"

Stupefied by fury, and utterly dumbfounded at their inhumanity, Jane froze. All her muscles tensed. She wasn't even aware of Frost moving, nor did she notice he wasn't standing beside her until she saw his fist connect with Burke's jaw. The incompetent cop's head snapped backwards and he smashed into the wall. Dazed, he sagged to the floor. Frost whipped around and seized Smith by the lapels, forcing the man to stand on tiptoes.

"You watch your mouth!" Frost yelled, his face a scant inch from Smith's. "You hear me? You fucking hear me?"

"Frost, stop!" Jane shouted. She grabbed Smith's shoulders and yanked him away from the enraged detective. Frankie threw up his arm to stop Frost going after Smith a second time. With his other hand, her brother warded against the two uniformed cops, who looked ready to wade into the fray.

"They were out of line, Jane!" Frost fumed. "I can't let that shit slide. You and Dr Isles could have been killed! They've got no right to talk like that."

"Jesus, Barry," Jane breathed, "Calm down."

She was shaken. Frost was one of the most even-tempered people she'd ever met. To see him lose his shit like that was wholly shocking. The use of his first name seemed to bring Frost back down to earth. He blinked and clasped his fist to his chest, clearly in pain.

"I'm not sorry," he muttered.

"Crazy son of a bitch," Burke cursed, clutching his jaw.

Frankie kicked the floored cop in the foot. "Shut it," he ordered. "Get up and go get your face checked out."

"You," Jane pointed at the two angry uniforms, "Go with him. Smith, get the hell out of here."

"You'll pay for this, you fucking lunatic," Smith snapped at Frost.

Frost raised an eyebrow and smiled coldly. "You got lucky, boys."

"Get him out of here," Jane whispered to Frankie. "Take him somewhere to cool off."

"You ok, Janie?" He looked as freaked out as she felt. It wasn't as though she hadn't wanted to put those two idiots in their place, but she'd never ever expected it to be Frost who exploded like that. There'd be trouble after this, but there was nothing any of them could do now.

Frost was shaking from the fading adrenaline. He'd regret losing his temper so completely, she knew. His face was tight with anger and burgeoning anxiety. She squeezed his shoulder supportively. She was torn between worrying about him, and wishing that it had been her who'd struck down Burke.

"Ice that hand," Jane ordered as Frankie hustled Frost out of HQ.

She put her hands on her hips and exhaled in a long stream, wondering what to do next.

_Shit._

* * *

Three hours later, Jane made it back to Maura's bedside. She'd talked to Korsak, and then to Cavanaugh at great length. Although unhappy, the lieutenant had been understanding, and she'd left the matter in his hands. As Frost's superior, it was up to him to deal with now, but Jane was confident he would side with the homicide detective. She doubted he would be particularly keen to punish Frost, especially considering how angry he himself was with Smith and Burke.

She didn't mention the incident to Maura, preferring to keep the conversation light. The doctor could barely contain her excitement at the prospect of going home. Jane thought she was adorable.

"I've been missing Bass," Maura told her. "I hope he's okay."

"Don't worry. Someone's been looking after your turtle."

"Tortoise."

Jane snorted. She wasn't about to admit that she'd taken the tortoise a punnet of British strawberries on Wednesday. Maura had mentioned them once, and, since Jane hadn't been able to do anything particularly useful for Maura herself, she'd pampered Bass instead. It was as though the animal was a proxy for her friend. She wouldn't ever tell the ME that she rather liked the tortoise, and was even beginning to think it was kind of cute.

There was a light tap on the door. Frost peeked through the glass. His face was a picture of sheepishness. He didn't seem to be sure what his reception would be. Jane felt sorry for him.

"Can I come in?"

"Detective Frost!" Maura said happily, "Please do."

He sidled in, avoiding making eye contact with Jane and sat in the spare chair. He was holding an ice pack to his right hand.

"What did you do to yourself?" the doctor asked, concerned.

"Frost had a bit of an encounter with Jack Burke."

Maura looked blank.

"The officer who was first on scene last Saturday."

"Oh."

"I decked him," Frost told her shamefacedly.

"Good for you!" Maura said hotly.

"I didn't realise you two were quite so violent!" Jane quipped, slightly startled.

"A bullet wound can give one new perspective. I'd like to hit him myself, but I think it would be somewhat ineffective, especially given my current condition."

"It did feel good," Frost confessed. "Stupid, but worth it."

"And Frost has a pretty mean punch," Jane pointed out.

Maura was looking at Frost with gratitude and admiration. It made Jane wish that it had been her who'd lost her temper, just so that Maura would look at _her_ that way. _Dumb thought, _she told herself, shoving the idea aside.

Frost cleared his throat. "So what do you have planned for when you get released?"

"Angela has agreed to make me a batch of cannoli. I cannot wait to eat them. Hospital food leaves a fair bit to be desired."

"How long will you be off work?"

"Eight weeks. So, I'll have plenty of time to catch up on my medical journals."

"Or you could just binge a TV show like a normal person." Jane told her jokingly.

"What would you suggest I watch?"

"_The L Word?" _Frost offered, with a grin and a meaningful, sidelong glance at Jane.

The detective bit down on what could only be described as an alarmed squeak and kicked him.

"I've already seen that," Maura said nonchalantly.

Jane gaped. "You watched it all?"

"Yes. For research."

She couldn't stop herself asking: "What kind of research?"

Maura fixed her with a level look. "Ethnographic."

In the ensuing deafening silence, the detective swallowed audibly as Maura captured her gaze. She didn't blink, and neither did Jane. Frost looked from one to the other, and then chose to study his fingernails as though they were the most interesting thing in the world, doing his best to pretend he wasn't in the room. He needn't have bothered: the two women seemed to have forgotten he was there. Maura's stare was suddenly full of a banked heat, and Jane could feel the room temperature spike as the doctor held her eyes.

Unable to help it, Jane dropped her attention to the other woman's mouth. Unconsciously, Maura licked her lips. Aware of her pulse quickening, Jane tore her attention away and cleared her throat unnecessarily loudly. Maura busied herself refilling her water glass, and took several gulps from it.

While she was occupied, Jane gave Frost an apologetic smile. He shook his head wryly.

_Well, _Jane thought. _That was definitely what you'd call a 'moment.'_


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Mega love for all you reviewers, followers and favouriters. Hope you enjoy this one!**

Monday morning found Maura champing at the bit. Having been told on the Friday she would be let out of hospital within a day or two, she had fully expected to be loosed on Sunday morning at the latest. As the clock ticked ever closer to the end of the day, Maura's disappointment became more and more crushing. Constance was there with her, looking equally peeved by the delay.

"I don't know what they think they're playing at," her mother said tersely, as she tapped her foot.

Miserable, Maura nodded in agreement. On her bedside table, her phone buzzed as a text message arrived. She smiled when she saw Jane's name ringed in lights on the screen, and reached to pick it up, careful not to put undue pressure on her injuries.

_'Want me to come bust you out of there?' _The text read.

Maura responded with: _'You mean kick ass and take names? I don't feel like that would endear me to anyone, as much as I would enjoy watching you do it.'_

She knew she could always check out AMA if she really wanted to, but she was a stickler for both rules and medical advice. Though it was desperately frustrating, she knew she'd break out in hives if she tried to leave before her doctor told her she could.

The phone vibrated in her hand. Jane's reply read: _'Ha, anything for you, babe. Let me know when you're free – I'll drive you home.'_

_Babe. _Maura grinned. She hated it when a man called her that, but Jane seemed to be able to get away with it. The offer to pick her up was also one Maura relished. She'd planned to take a taxi with Constance, but she would much prefer the detective to drive her. They'd not seen each other since Saturday, and Maura was beginning to miss her company.

"You look giddy as a schoolgirl," Constance observed. "Who's that texting you?"

"Jane," Maura said shyly.

"Naturally."

The ME narrowed her eyes as her mother smiled at her knowingly. "She offered to drive us home."

"That's sweet of her. Provided, of course, that we ever get you out of here. Shall I go and find out what's happening?"

"If you could, mother, that would be wonderful."

As Constance exited the room, Maura unlocked her phone and stared at the screen, pondering what would make a suitable – yet subtly flirtatious – response. Subtlety wasn't really her forte. Not when it came to Jane.

She almost wished Jane hadn't passed out so soon on Thursday night. Maura would have relished the opportunity to ask her some less than delicate questions while her inhibitions were down. But then there was always the chance that Jane might have remembered the queries in a negative light, or worse still, not given her the answers she wanted.

Maura liked to think that if she'd not been confined to a hospital bed, she might have been brave enough to put her hands on Jane's shoulders and press her against the wall and―

Her heart monitor interrupted her thoughts. It beeped faster. Loathe to have a nurse come in and ask her what the issue was, Maura tried desperately to quash such thoughts, or, at the very least, make them slightly less vivid. She needed to stop thinking about what it would be like to run her tongue along the detective's collarbone and taste the salt on her skin. And what it would be like to see Jane kiss her way up the inside of Maura's thigh.

The monitor was bleeping even more quickly now, but she was lost in her thoughts. A liquid heat mounted inside her. She wanted to get lost in the mess of that tousled brunette hair and learn that body like a nursery rhyme in Braille.

"Maura?

She almost jumped out of her skin. Biting back a forceful curse that her mother certainly wouldn't have appreciated, Maura struggled to get her heart rate back under control. _If only I was at yoga... _With Jane. In her sports bra.

_Christ. _That didn't help.

"Darling, is that infernal machine supposed to be doing that?" Constance asked her. "Is everything ok? You look a tad flushed."

"It's warm in here," Maura said. She was a little breathless.

Constance hadn't taken her coat off since she arrived because she'd thought the temperature was too low. She glanced pointedly at her attire, and then raised an eyebrow at her daughter.

"I'm absolutely fine, mother," Maura said seriously. "Perhaps it's the pain."

"You have pain?"

"Not really, no."

Constance eyed her suspiciously. Maura smiled back unnecessarily brightly.

"Did you find a doctor?" The ME asked, seeking to swiftly divert her mother's attention.

"I did indeed. Someone will be with you within the hour. I confess I was somewhat... persuasive."

Maura hoped her mother hadn't made anyone cry. She wondered if the hospital would charge extra for that. Her medical insurance probably didn't cover irate European women. And it definitely didn't cover what Jane could do to her blood pressure. _The way she undressed me with her eyes the other day..._ The memory took Maura's breath away.

"I'll let Jane know to come and pick us up," Maura said with artificial dispassion.

Constance looked at her watch. "_Je suis très fatiguée. _Would you mind awfully if I went back to my hotel once you get released? The jetlag is still defeating me, I'm afraid."

Maura had expected as much. It didn't bother her. "That's quite alright. I'll most likely go straight to bed myself anyway."

"In that case, I don't feel bad leaving you in Jane's capable hands."

_Jane's capable hands. _Those exquisite long bones. Pianist's fingers. Maura felt her throat go dry.

"I'll let her know what's happening."

* * *

Twenty minutes after Maura texted her, Jane arrived at the hospital. Another twenty minutes after that, Maura had been discharged and they were on the way to the detective's car.

Much to Maura's chagrin, Jane had insisted on her using a wheelchair to leave the hospital. Constance had agreed, so Maura was forced to allow Jane to wheel her to the car, which the other woman clearly relished, taking pleasure in Maura's vexation in a sadistic sort of manner.

"I can get in on my own." She declared firmly as Jane opened the passenger door.

Jane cocked her head to one side, while Constance watched them both as though they were distinctly entertaining. Months ago, in a rare moment of familial tenderness, Maura had confided in her mother how she felt about Jane. They hadn't mentioned it again, but she could tell the older woman had certainly not forgotten. Constance face must surely ache from all the meaningful looks she had been shooting her daughter over the past week.

With an engaging smile, Jane held out her hand for Maura. In spite of her bravado, the doctor wasn't sure of her current strength, so she gladly took it. The detective was strong enough and considerate enough that it was barely any effort to stand up.

Feeling that hand around her own made her change her mind. Forgetting her pride, Maura played up her weakness for all it was worth. She leaned in close to Jane, and drew her familiar scent into her nostrils. Jane's arm wrapped around her; she felt the detective's bicep flex against her lower back, and almost stumbled at the sensation.

"You ok?" Jane whispered, holding her even closer.

Maura couldn't formulate words to answer, so she merely nodded. Though manoeuvring herself into the car hurt, she was almost sad that it took so little time. When Jane shut the passenger door, Maura felt her absence against her body like a sudden, cold void.

Naturally, Jane was adamant on dropping Constance off at her hotel on the way, so the artist wouldn't have to bother with a cab. She knew it would score her points with both Isles women, which was something she always sought to do. She didn't linger outside the hotel though – it was superlative in its splendour, and made her feel significantly out of place. Constance blew a kiss to her daughter and then disappeared inside, leaving Jane free to drive off as quickly as decency allowed.

"Your mother scares me a little," Jane admitted conversationally, "But I do like her."

"I think you scare her a little too, but I also know she likes you as well."

She snorted. "I scare _her_?Always nice to hear."

"You don't hold back, Jane. She isn't used to that. I do think she finds it refreshing."

"So I'm refreshing and scary?"

Maura laughed. "You're a lot of things, Jane Rizzoli."

They passed the rest of the short drive in companionable silence. When they reached Maura's house, she was too excited to get inside to go through with same pantomime climbing out of the car as she had getting in. Jane still put an arm around her as they walked up Maura's drive; her body heat seeped through Maura's clothes, but the arm was comforting this time. The doctor abruptly found herself feeling exhausted, and she was grateful for the support.

"Would you like to come in for a little while?" she asked.

"If I come in, I'm not going to want to ever leave, and I'm pretty sure you want to enjoy being back in your own bed at last."

"True, I've missed it."

"You've got Ma in your guesthouse, so you'll have a Rizzoli on hand if you need one."

"I love your mother, but she isn't the Rizzoli I'd prefer to have on hand."

"She's a bit full-on," Jane said, glossing over any other meaning to Maura's words. "But she cooks better. You can expect bunny pancakes for breakfast."

Maura laughed. "I'd like that."

The doctor winced in pain as her mirth subsided. She tried to hide it, but Jane saw the way her face crumpled for the scantest of seconds, and her hand pressed to the wound in her chest. The detective nervously moved to steady her, but Maura waved her away. Jane put her hands in her pockets uneasily.

"Why did you do it, Maura?" Jane asked quietly. She looked down at her feet, unable to bear seeing the hurt in the other woman's eyes. Especially since she felt responsible for that hurt – at least in part.

"He would have killed you," Maura said softly, knowing exactly what Jane meant. "From the angle of his arm, I could see the trajectory of the bullet. It―"

"But he _could_ have killed _you_."

"I didn't think – I just knew I couldn't let him hurt you." Maura reached out and, with a finger under Jane's chin, raised the detective's head.

"You scared me," Jane told her, almost inaudibly.

"I had to do it."

Finally, Jane met her eyes. Maura gave her a rueful half-smile and shifted one shoulder up in a shy shrugging motion. That coy look made Jane's stomach flip. Her breath caught in her throat. Maura had that unreadable sparkle in her gaze again. But this time, Jane could read it perfectly.

This time, she knew.

She had never wanted anything more than she wanted to kiss Maura at that instant. Her abdominal muscles were clenched so tightly she thought they might snap under the pressure. She wanted to feel those lips against her own, slide her tongue into that exquisite mouth, run her hands through that soft, caramel coloured hair. She _wanted _so badly.

But yet she was paralyzed with anxiety, too nervous to reach out and seize the thing she needed most in the world.

They were standing so close together. It would be so very easy just to cross that last little bit of distance. So goddamn easy. Maura was biting her lower lip and staring at Jane's mouth. What was it about the doctor that transformed her into a scared, horny teenager?

_Grow some balls, Rizzoli, _Jane growled in the privacy of her own brain_. Do it!_

A muscle in her neck twitched, as the two warring sides in her head clashed again. Want won out and she gathered the courage to move―

Maura panicked. The moment had gone on too long. Unable to explain entirely why, she leaned in and kissed Jane tenderly on the tip of her nose. For some reason, it seemed like the only safe territory.

Jane blinked. A bubble of hysteria rose in the back of her throat and threatened to burst out. Maura stepped backwards, her hands clasped in front of her body.

"Goodnight, Jane," she said.

"Night, Maura."

Dazed, Jane turned on her heel and slowly walked away. It wasn't quite what she'd been expecting, nor was it exactly what she'd wanted or hoped for. But it was a kiss. A very weird kiss, but a kiss from Maura Isles nevertheless. If she'd been out of eyeshot, she would have punched the air with happiness.

She looked over her shoulder and saw Maura was still outside, watching her go. She faltered mid-step, wondering if she should go back. Jane shook her head wryly, thinking she had already pushed her luck enough for one night. She couldn't mess things up now.

So, instead, she went to her car and got inside. Then, there in the rear view mirror, she caught sight of an almost imperceptible lipstick print on her nose. Laughing softly to herself, she put the car into gear and drove away.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Sorry for not updating for a while. Can't decide if this chapter gets a bit mental or not, but I had hella fun writing it. Enjoy! As always, reviews are received with much love and puppies.**

"Her nose," Maura raged, slumping against the back of her front door. "Of all the things I could have kissed, I kissed her fucking nose!"

Sense disappeared from her words as a stream of profanity flew from her lips. Maura Isles rarely used swear words, but when she did, she really went to town. She could have made even the most seasoned sailor blush. Indeed, she was rather creative.

Certain kissing Jane's nose would make the detective question Maura's sanity, the doctor bit down on the knuckle of her forefinger and wondered what on earth she could possibly do to rectify this. Should she text Jane? Call her?

"And say what?" she asked the empty room.

Maura wasn't used to panicking in a moment like that. With men, she was more than happy to take the initiative. Her attitude to sexual contact was liberal enough that she rarely got flustered about anything. But with Jane, she'd just been so overwhelmed by her own emotion and wanton _need_ that she hadn't known what to do, and Jane hadn't exactly been helpful either.

She knew there should have been a kiss. _A proper kiss, _she corrected herself. But when Jane had stood so still for so long, Maura had lost her nerve. Yet after staring at her for that length of time, with that level of heat, the doctor had known she would have to do something. A kiss to the forehead would have signalled dismissal, and a lack of attraction. A kiss to the cheek―

_Why didn't I just kiss her cheek? _

"The hell is wrong with me?"

_Why was I so paralyzed? _Suddenly, it all seemed so ridiculous. Maura pressed the back of her hand to her eyes. Her face tightened as she struggled to hold back a peel of laughter. She knew laughing would hurt, and wasn't keen to experience that. That said, she couldn't help the giggle that reverberated through her.

She really, _really _hoped that somewhere, Jane was laughing herself silly too. Instead of wondering what kind of madness she'd gotten drawn into.

* * *

When the next morning arrived, it found Maura curled into a tight ball under her duvet. As she slowly woke up, she became more and more aware of the way this position was sending a steady thrum of pain through the wound in her torso. At the same time, it was tremendously comfortable somehow, and she wasn't willing to move until the pain forced her to, which unfortunately was sooner than she would have liked.

Flipping back the thick eiderdown with her leg, Maura emerged from the bed with bleary eyes. One arm immediately reached for the bottle of painkillers she'd left on her bedside table. She dry-swallowed one, choking it down, before she realised she'd thoughtfully left herself a glass of water as well. After the second pill, she greedily drained the rest of the water, and quickly returned to the warmth of her bed, where it didn't take long for sleep to claim her.

Hours later, she came to again. This time, there was no pain, so she propped her upper half up on her chunky pillows and opened a medical journal, ready to immerse herself in it.

However, her brain had other ideas. She managed to read half a page before her mind wandered – as it often did – to Jane. Maura wondered what the detective was doing at that particular moment. She blushed as she thought about how she'd kissed Jane's nose the previous night. In the cold light of day, Maura's move seemed even more bizarre to her. It was illogical for her to have panicked like that. Right there and then, she promised the room at large that next time – if indeed there was a next time after her performance last night – she would be bold.

_Speaking of Jane... _Maura picked up her phone. Jane's number was top on her speed dial and the detective picked up almost immediately.

"Maura!" She sounded a little out of breath.

"Is this a bad time?"

"Nah, I'm just at the gym."

"Wish I was there with you," Maura said wistfully, picturing Jane in her workout clothes.

"Aw, don't worry, you'll be back on your feet and bouncing around before you know it," the detective said reassuringly.

_Not what I meant, _Maura thought. She chose not to correct Jane's obtuseness. Sometimes she thought the other woman was deliberately clueless.

"Say, Maura," Jane began, "Frost and Korsak are dying to see you. I know you only just got out of hospital, but would you be willing to have a drink with us all on Saturday?"

"I don't know, Jane―"

"It'd only be a quiet one, I swear. You can't drink with those painkillers, so I promise we won't either. It's just... I miss us all being together, and I know the guys do to. Hell, the guys won't shut up about the idea."

"How about you all come to my house? I'd be more comfortable with that so early into my recovery."

"Yeah!" Jane said happily, "That's probably a better idea for now. But you gotta promise to come to the Dirty Robber with us as soon as you're up and about."

"Deal."

"Fantastic." Maura could hear the smile in Jane's voice as the detective continued: "I definitely want to celebrate with you."

"Celebrate?"

There was a pause at the other end of the line. "Yeah," Jane eventually said, "Like, you didn't die and shit. It'd be nice to raise a glass to that, you know what I mean?"

"Well, I'm glad I didn't die too."

"Exactly! It's a date― thing. Fun times!" Jane garbled.

It was so hard not to laugh at how flustered she got sometimes. Maura knew how she felt, but she wasn't sure the detective knew how Maura felt, or indeed how Jane herself felt. She was more than certain of Jane's attraction to her, and, in the rare moments Jane had come close to saying anything, the detective always panicked and either said something stupid, or ran away.

_Except for last night, _Maura mused wryly, _that fiasco was all down to me._

They chatted a bit more before Jane announced she needed to get back to her bicep curls. Hanging up, Maura tried not to let her brain linger on that image too long – she didn't have the energy to do it justice.

Saturday rolled around slowly. For Maura, the week passed in a haze of occasional pain, medical journals, and _Harry Potter _films. She was endeavouring to keep off the painkillers as much as she could, and as a result, she went through each day trying not to move too much while she occupied her brain as much as possible. After she'd watched the final _Potter _movie, she moved onto _The Lord of the Rings _extended editions. All the time, she wished Jane was with her, snuggled up on her big sofa, watching these epic stories unfold, yet the detective seemed to have made herself scarce. She popped in daily, but she didn't linger. Granted, Jane was always full of her usual buoyancy whenever Maura saw her, but that wasn't nearly as often or for as long as the doctor would have liked. Mostly, Jane seemed to be splitting her time between the gym, and the Homicide unit – in spite of the fact she was still technically on leave.

Thanks to the detective's absence, Maura had more and more time to wonder whether she had screwed things up the night she'd got out of hospital. After all, who wouldn't be put off by a lunatic kissing their nose?

With these thoughts running through her head, Maura was incredibly relieved when Saturday came around and Jane showed up to her house an hour and a half early.

"Sorry, I'm early," the detective said, giving her a quick hug of greeting, "I thought you might need some help getting ready or whatever. I know what I was like when I was recuperating."

Maura watched Jane's eyes travel around her spotless home, before coming to rest on her own.

"Okay," Jane admitted sheepishly, "I guess you aren't a mess like me. Still, can I do anything?"

A cord in the detective's neck stood out as she struggled not to ogle Maura, who was clad only in her nightgown, which left little to the imagination. It came down to about mid thigh and was clearly only made of thin material. Jane glanced down. The rush of cold air through the open front door had made it very obvious that Maura wasn't wearing anything underneath the robe. The detective's mouth was suddenly very dry.

"You could set up my sound system while I shower? Pick some suitable dinner music for tonight? And then put some plates in to warm up, please."

Jane used a nod to cover another quick glance at Maura's breasts. "I can do that," she said enthusiastically. "What about dinner?"

"Your mother kindly offered to cook."

"When you say offered...?"

"She gave me very little choice," Maura smiled. "I think she made pretty much everything before she went to work this morning. Just needs heating up now."

"Excellent! Now, go shower!"

Her smile broadening for reasons she didn't explain, Maura turned and walked away. Boy, did Jane love to watch her walk away. Especially in a robe that barely covered her firm buttocks. Jane ought to send the manufacturers a medal for that fine piece of engineering.

No woman with a bullet hole through her chest had the right to look _this _delicious.

"Christ," Jane whispered, unconsciously licking her lips.

* * *

"_Bonjour_, _Madam_e _Isles_," husked a voice that didn't belong to her daughter.

Though she herself was early, Constance wasn't at all surprised to have Jane open Maura's door for her. It came as no shock that the detective had beaten her to her daughter's house, nor was it particularly surprising when Jane told her that the doctor was in the shower. The two younger women were so comfortable with each other that Constance often forgot they weren't actually married. _Yet, _she thought, hiding a smile as she kissed Jane's cheek in greeting.

"Come in, come in," Jane said, ushering her through.

"I brought some wine."

"Wow, two bottles. Listen, Maura can't drink at the moment..."

"Ha, it's not for Maura." Constance chuckled at Jane's expression. "Pinot noir is the perfect accompaniment to dear Angela's cooking, and I'm not about to miss out, am I?

Jane couldn't help but be amused. "Sometimes, Constance, I wonder where Maura gets it all from, and then I remember you."

The older woman laughed and patted Jane on the shoulder companionably as they walked toward the kitchen. Now inside, Constance could hear a familiar riff floating from Maura's expensive surround sound system. Jimi Hendrix's _The Wind Cries Mary._

"I hadn't pegged you for a Hendrix fan, Jane," Constance said conversationally.

Then she caught sight of Maura in the middle of the living room moving to the music, and understood the detective's choice of song. Both of them knew her daughter couldn't resist anything soulful, and there she was – wearing nothing but a towel, hair damp from the shower – swaying her hips sinuously to the sensual music that oozed like caramel from the speakers. Cocking an eyebrow at the scene – Maura dancing obliviously and Jane's jaw dropping – Constance looked from one woman to the other and shook her head amusedly. The detective seemed to have completely forgotten the other, more clothed Isles.

After allowing them a moment longer, Constance cleared her throat and tried not to laugh at the way both Jane and Maura jumped.

"Darling!" she said loudly over the music, moving to kiss Maura theatrically on both cheeks.

The startled doctor looked at the blushing detective, who was suddenly attempting to seem busy in the kitchen, and then at her highly entertained mother.

"Mother!" she said, unsure what she'd missed. "You're early!"

"I simply could not wait to see you, sweetheart." Constance smirked, "And I see I'm not the only one."

"Mother!" Maura said again, this time with quiet, but vehement, reproach.

"You best put some clothes on, Maura dear. We don't want you to catch a cold now, do we?" With that, Constance chivvied her daughter away and joined Jane in the kitchen.

Constance gave the detective a knowing look as she avoided the older woman's gaze and bustled unnecessarily with a set of cutlery. Fortunately, Angela clattered through the back door at that moment, and saved the detective any further embarrassment.

"Constance!" Angela said happily. "And you brought wine! I was worried this was going to be a teetotal party."

"Not on my watch, my dear. The children can stick to their Pellegrino all they want, but I couldn't pass up a good pinot."

"Who can?" Angela responded with a laugh.

"Well, this is going to be _fun,"_ Jane grumbled to herself as her mother reached for a pair of wine glasses. She was glad Angela and Constance got on – she really was – but when they got together, their favourite pastime seemed to be making Jane squirm, and they were both so very good at it.

They made it all the way through dinner – which must have been a record – before either of the matriarchs said anything to make Jane cringe. But then it rapidly went downhill after that. The two older women had demolished most of the wine Constance had brought and were gradually letting loose more and more.

"Oh darling," Constance piped up, "I forgot to mention – do you recall our neighbours in Paris? I tried to set you up with their son, remember?"

"Rafael?"

"That's the one."

"Rafael? Sounds like a hunk," Angela injected.

"Ma!" Jane hissed.

"Yes, beautiful Rafael," Constance told them, gesticulating expansively. "Apparently he's shacked up with another gentleman now, so more fool me for trying to match-make!"

"Oh," Maura said, her eyebrows raised. "I didn't see that coming, I must confess. He seemed heterosexual to me."

"Was it the muscles?" her mother said dreamily. "Because you shouldn't adhere so strictly to stereotypes. People can surprise you."

Maura's eyes flicked to Jane, and caught the detective mid surreptitious glance at her. Both women blushed.

"There was one woman who really did surprise me," Constance told them. "A long time ago. She was – as we said back then – quite a looker. We were at a party in London, and well―" she took a refined sip of wine and then continued "―I think we both 'surprised' each other. It was quite an enjoyable experience."

Jane snorted sparkling water up into her nose in shock. _Did she really just say that? _Korsak and Angela laughed uproariously, both having caught sight of Maura's wide-eyed expression of bewildered horror. Frost didn't seem to know what to do with his face – he was torn between hilarity and a desire to express some kind of sympathy, though he didn't know exactly what for.

"Mother, please" Maura managed to choke out despairingly.

"What?" Constance said, clearly enjoying herself. "It was the 70s, and I'm an artist – what did you expect? Remember the 70s, Angela?"

Jane whipped around to stare at her mother so quickly that it sent a spear of agony through her neck and spine. Angela held up her hands in a pacifying gesture.

"Don't look at me like that, Janie," she chortled. "I only ever had eyes for your father."

"What about you, Vincent?" Constance asked, "Ever been surprised?"

Korsak made a face. "Are you kidding? Hell, no. Not that, you know, I'm a queer-basher or anything. It's just... you know. Ew. And it sounds painful."

"I kissed a guy once," Frost said casually.

"What the fuck is happening?" Jane asked the room – well, the whole universe, really. Nobody paid any attention to her. Her mother didn't even reprimand her for her language.

"Good for you, Barry," Constance applauded.

Frost shrugged. "Wasn't for me. Besides, it was only a dare."

Jane realised – with no small measure of dread – that they had all turned to look at her. "What? Me? Nah. I think it's time for dessert," she said firmly, and hastily got up from the table.

To her eternal disenchantment, when she returned with her arms full of tiramisu, they were still discussing the subject. Trying to blend into the background, she ladled out portions of dessert, and prayed that Constance would let it go.

"As a woman at least, I think in this day and age, it's almost stranger if you haven't shared a same-sex kiss, than if you have," Maura said in her best scientific manner.

That piqued Jane's interest enough to forget she was trying to hide. "Even you?"

Maura met her eyes, "Like I said – it would be stranger if I hadn't."

Overlooking their audience, Jane's eyebrows twitched and her lips formed a smirk. "Ever go further than that?" she asked, trying to cover her genuine interest with a joking tone.

Frost snorted into his drink, knowing full well where her mind was at. It was Angela and Constance's turn to pretend as though they weren't in the room – for all their love of embarrassing their daughters, neither of them wanted to jeopardise the relationship they both so deeply wished would blossom.

Maura simply fixed her with an unreadable look. "I went to an all-girls boarding school. What do you think?" she said, echoing her mother's earlier words.

Jane's imagination wrapped itself around _that_ idea immediately. In her mind's eye, she saw a scene play out – Maura being slammed against a dresser by a faceless woman. Both in the heat of passion, mouth to mouth, lust to lust, their hands everywhere at once. She could almost hear the doctor moan. She wondered what she tasted like. Sitting down swiftly, Jane crossed her legs against the feelings those thoughts had stirred.

"This dessert certainly looks and smells divine, Angela," Constance declared abruptly, thinking perhaps she'd taken things a bit too far. Angela looked equally sheepish as she sipped a glass of water.

"Tastes great, Ma," Jane told her earnestly, eager to continue this train of conversation.

"Delicious as always," Korsak agreed.

Not long after the tiramisu had been devoured, Constance begged her leave, claiming she had a headache – which wasn't surprising, considering her wine consumption – and took a taxi back to her hotel. Angela similarly departed to the guesthouse, while Frost and Korsak stayed to help clear things up. As Jane and Vince noisily loaded up the dishwasher, Maura sidled over to Frost.

"How's the case going, Barry?" She asked offhandedly.

"Your case?" They both winced at that.

"That's the one," Maura said, trying to sound vaguely upbeat, or at the very least unflappable.

"Truthfully? We've got nothing. The guy's a ghost. It's so frustrating!" Frost shook his head. "Why do you think Jane's been spending so much time at the gym?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, amongst other things, she's been smacking the shit out of BPD's boxing instructor everyday for the past week and a half. As well as anyone stupid else enough to get in the ring with her. Guess you haven't seen her much, huh?"

Maura open and shut her mouth foolishly. "I thought she was avoiding me."

"I suppose maybe she is," Frost admitted, "But only because she doesn't want you to see how desperate and angry this case is making her. She wants to be your hero, you know? And she's raging that she can't be."

"She's always been my hero," Maura said, almost too quietly.

"I know," Frost replied just as softly.

"You do?" She saw it in his eyes – Jane had confided in him. He really did know. "Ah."

He nodded, smiling warmly at her and gently squeezing her hand supportively. "You'll be okay," was all he said.


	13. Chapter 13

"I am so sorry about my mother," Maura said as soon as her guests had departed, leaving her and Jane alone.

"She's a firework when she's got a drink in her," Jane said neutrally. "My ma doesn't exactly help though, does she?"

Maura laughed. "I'm glad they get along so well. I never would have expected it."

"Why? Because Ma isn't some sophisticated _artiste_?" Jane couldn't help the sharpness that entered her voice.

"Because my mother rarely gets on with _anyone," _the doctor said. Her cool tone made the detective immediately feel bad.

"I feel like I learned a little too much about her sex life tonight," Jane said, moving past the any awkwardness there might have been.

"Oh my!" Maura sighed, "Tell me about it. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad we're so much closer now, but there are some things I really didn't need to know about her."

"Found out some interesting things about you too, Dr Isles," Jane teased, elbowing Maura gently in the ribs – on the other side to her wound.

"You were surprised?" Maura said quietly.

"Well, I guess it's just not ever come up in conversation before," Jane said carefully. In fact, she knew she'd deliberately avoided the subject, knowing that if she and Maura were to ever discuss same-sex attraction, Jane might well not have been able to control her feelings, or indeed, her physical response.

"I kissed _you_, didn't I?"

Jane laughed nervously. "You kissed my nose, Maura, I'm pretty sure that doesn't count. It's just something friends do."

_No, it's not, _Maura thought, as the exact thing went through Jane's mind.

"It was my first year of medical school," Maura began.

"Maura, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to," the detective said. She was torn between wanting every last detail, and fleeing.

"She was a TA. Lucy. Beautiful, erudite. We were involved for a number of months, but then she dropped me like a brick when some new candidate came along."

"_She _dropped _you?_" Jane asked disbelievingly. "Was she completely blind and stupid?"

"I suppose I was just too gawky for her."

"But... That's cute," Jane stuttered as Maura gave her a look. "What? Isn't it? I mean, aren't people supposed to like that?"

Maura laughed. "You didn't know me back then, Jane. Anyway, we parted badly – I was heartbroken. Last I heard, she married a man and moved to Texas."

"Ah," Jane said knowledgably, "Gay until graduation, I've heard of that."

"So that's my story," Maura said. _One of them, at least. _"What's yours?"

"Who said I had one?"

"Don't play coy," the doctor instructed playfully. "You wouldn't have reacted like a scalded cat if there wasn't something to tell."

Jane shrugged. "Not much to tell." _Apart from having sex with Tommy's ex-girlfriend when I was seventeen – I really hope she never told him that. And there was that girl I met on a trip to New York before I made detective. Oh and the woman with the really soft hair. Then there was the time with that Russian oligarch's granddaughter. And the―_

"Shouldn't be hard to tell me then," Maura pressed, interrupting the flow of memories.

"You remember when I got you to swab my neck for DNA during the Gaynor-Randall case?" Jane said slowly, fabricating a feasible lie as she went. "I might have kissed the bartender a little more than I let on."

That part was actually true. After the woman had kissed her neck, Jane had made to leave, but then she hadn't been able to stop herself coming back for more. They'd almost had sex on the bar, before Jane had remembered at a somewhat critical moment that the woman was a murder suspect, and had scarpered pretty quickly. There had been _a lot _of DNA on her after that for Maura to swab.

"Jane! She was an accessory to murder!" Maura wasn't sure if she was shocked or impressed, so she settled for chastising the other woman.

"I know, I know, but I was curious. And I really needed that DNA. It was strictly business."

"Strictly business." Maura repeated hollowly. "That's how you're categorising it?"

Jane swallowed. "How else would I categorise it?"

"Pleasure."

The way Maura said that one word was almost carnal, and it sent a shiver thrumming through Jane's taut body.

"I can't say I didn't enjoy it a little."

"Only a little?"

"Yeah. Sure."

The doctor scrutinised her as though she didn't believe her, which Jane thought was fair, considering she'd been lying through her teeth. Jane wondered why she'd lied – it wasn't as though Maura would have judged her in light of the confession the doctor had made not five minutes before. She supposed she just wasn't comfortable admitting her attraction to women to the single woman who made her heart race like nothing on earth. It was all well and good being open, but there was still the fear factor that Jane found so hard to dismiss. Rejection by Maura would mean more than a simple rebuff from a potential date – it could cost Jane her best friend, and that wasn't a risk she could ever take lightly. With these thoughts in mind, Jane caught sight of the time, and decided it might be a wise idea to leave before she ended up telling anymore irrational lies.

"I guess―" Jane began, but the buzz of Maura's phone cut her off.

Maura reached across her to where her phone lay on the arm of the sofa, coming so close that a wayward curl of hair brushed the detective's cheek. Jane felt every muscle in her body tense at Maura's sudden, unexpected proximity. Jane inhaled the clear scent of the doctor's coconut shampoo and fought desperately to keep her hands by her sides when all they really wanted to do was reach out and touch her.

Maura must have felt – or rather sensed – Jane's whole body go entirely rigid for she laid the phone back down and slowly pulled back – almost languidly. The material of her top dragged torturously across the now hyperaware skin of Jane's forearm. The detective swallowed and kept her eyes fixed upon the opposite wall, fighting to regain composure. She could feel Maura watching her enquiringly.

"Who was that?" Jane forced herself to ask casually, pretending fiercely that nothing had happened. _Should I just get up and leave? _She knew then that that was the last thing in the world she wanted to do. _Fuck, I want to stay with her forever. I want to stop lying to her. I want to tell her she's the most alluring creature I've ever met. Above all, I just really want to kiss her. _

_I'm such a fool._

"My mother," Maura explained, "She says her hotel bar does a very fine Chateâuneuf-du-Pape. A Grenache noir, apparently. It's a popular grape choice in that particular region."

Maura continued to talk, waxing lyrical about the deep flavours of what Jane belatedly realised must be a wine. When Maura talked about vintages and bouquets, she always got this glaze of sheer pleasure across her eyes, and her face would soften. That look, combined with the fact her current homily was interspersed with perfectly accented French, made Jane's stomach flip. She didn't think anyone else could even come close to making grape varieties sound sexy. Captivated by the cadences of the doctor's voice, the detective let Maura's words wash over her. The meaning of what she was actually saying was lost to the thrill that ran through Jane as she spoke.

The detective let her eyes wander, sending them roving across Maura's face, and down the side of her throat where she could see the ME's pulse beat beneath her beautifully unblemished skin. She dared to drop her gaze to Maura's neckline. She could see a slight pinkness begin to form in the space between the doctor's collarbones, as though Maura could feel the heat of Jane's stare on her bare flesh.

"Jane, are you listening to me?" Maura said quietly. There was something in her expression that quickened Jane's pulse, sending blood rushing through her tense body like liquid fire.

"Not even a little," the detective breathed, emboldened by desire. She returned her eyes to the other woman's face. "You're mesmerising."

Maura leaned closer. "I am?" she said softly, as she twirled a strand of hair between her fingers.

Jane's throat bobbed as she nodded. She was brimming with a curious mix of uncertainty and confidence. Her lips twitched up in a smirk, as she unconsciously shifted nearer the doctor.

"What about me so mesmerises you, Jane?"

Jane trailed the backs of her fingers down the side of Maura's face. "Your eyes," she murmured as Maura leaned into her hand. "Your mouth."

She drew her thumb along Maura's jaw. It felt like a whisper against her skin. The thumb touched Maura's lower lip, and she flicked her tongue out to taste it. Jane inhaled sharply. They were close now. So close. Close enough to share the same breath.

Jane's fingers grazed the point at which Maura's neck joined her shoulder, and she ran them along her collarbone. The caress was slow. The doctor found it hard to think with Jane looking at her like that, touching her like that. The hand slipped across her shoulder and then rose up to grasp the back of her neck. Though Jane's touch still felt light, it was wholly possessive at the same time.

Maura's hand was on Jane's leg; her fingertips dug fervently into the thin material that covered the detective's thigh. _My god._ She wanted those trousers gone. _Preferably ripped clean off. _The other hand snuck to the collar of the other woman's shirt and tugged at it, bringing Jane even closer to her.

Now that she was so committed to this, Jane wasn't scared anymore. She ached. Her whole body throbbed to the beat of her longing. Maura's hand slipped higher up her thigh, sending yet more heat racing through them both.

Jane's lips brushed Maura's own and then retreated teasingly.

_Not enough, _Maura thought. She closed the final centimetre between them and kissed Jane.

It was a gentle kiss, at odds with the conflagration that pulsed through her veins and pounded across every single synapse. Jane returned it with equal tenderness. There was something just so sweet about it. Maura wanted to savour the feeling of finally making that connection, and she could tell the detective had a similar thought.

They continued to kiss, both full of a strange sense of wonder, both surprised that after all this time, they were _here _together.

But then Jane's hand fisted in the hair at the base of Maura's skull, sending a bolt of lightning straight down Maura's spine. The kiss turned electric. Jane's tongue slid into the doctor's mouth and flirted hungrily with Maura's own. Seizing Jane's shirt from with both hands, Maura yanked her body closer – if that was at all possible.

It was amazing then, that either of them heard the floorboard creak.

Jane leapt away as Angela appeared in the doorway in her pyjamas. "Ma!" she exclaimed.

Maura watched a thousand things flash across the detective's face in the space of less than a second. For her part, the doctor forced herself not to scream at Angela for choosing that particular moment to swan into the house.

Utterly oblivious to their heaving chests and alarmed looks, the Rizzoli matriarch smiled and opened her mouth to greet the two women, but a wild-eyed Jane beat her to it.

"So yeah, and then he said it wasn't his fox, but I knew that wasn't true at all," the detective suddenly gushed.

Unconsciously, Jane attempted to smooth the creases from the front of her shirt, and then abruptly turned on her heel and made for the exit. "Anyway, I have to follow up on that," she said robotically. "Bye, y'all!"

Angela looked from her daughter's retreating back, to the gaping, somewhat dishevelled medical examiner. "What the heck was that about?"

"You know what?" Maura said slowly, taken aback by Jane's completely surreal departure, "I honestly have no idea."

That was the truth, plain enough. _Not his fox? _Jane was really very awful at improvisation. Maura suppressed a smile and shook her head. She knew _exactly_ where she and Jane had been heading, and she was more than a little frustrated to have it broken off. That said, she wondered how far Jane would have allowed them to go... She knew it annoyed the detective when men assumed she would be loose, but that was _men. _Jane had certainly seemed like she would have seen things through. _But she does have a prudish streak, _Maura reflected, consoling herself in the idea that perhaps Jane would have chickened out anyway.

"Angela?" Maura sighed as the Italian woman bustled around the kitchen. "Would you consider wearing a bell around your neck so I can hear you approaching?"

"Oh!" Angela exclaimed, waggling her eyebrows suggestively, "Did I interrupt something?"

Though Jane's mother was clearly joking, Maura couldn't help but feel somewhat cornered. There was no way in hell she wanted to answer that truthfully. She groped for an appropriate explanation. She could hardly tell Angela that she needed an early warning system in case she caught the doctor fucking her daughter. Maura blinked – she didn't normally swear like that, not even in her own head. It usually seemed crude to her to refer to the act of sex in such a manner. But. _Fucking Jane. _She crossed her legs tightly; these thoughts really weren't helping the insatiable throbbing between her thighs.

"It's just," Maura finally began. "Your sudden appearances aren't good for my blood pressure."

Angela watched her squirm uncomfortably and could tell there was more to it than that. Her jaw dropped. "I did interrupt something, didn't I?" she burst out.

An unrestrained cackle escaped the older woman as Maura blushed hard enough that it felt like her face would melt. Not meeting Angela's eyes, she stood up smoothly, grabbed her phone, and tugged her blouse down to straighten it as best she could.

"Goodnight, Angela," Maura said with as much dignity as she could muster, and made for her bedroom. As she shut her door, she could hear the Italian still attempting to stifle her pleased laughter.

Angela's amused voice floated up: "I'm sorry, Maura!"

Despite her intense frustration, and the fact she simply couldn't manage to slow her racing pulse, Maura had to laugh. She could easily imagine Angela having a silent celebration in the next room.

Her phone buzzed in her hand as a text arrived. Jane. Of course.

_I'm really sorry about that, _it read.

Maura bit her lip, unsure what to make of that message. She wasn't sure whether to apologise herself, or say something playful. She even considered not replying, which was something she never did, especially not to Jane. Still, it was hard to feel too nervous when she could still feel Jane's kiss burning on her lips.

Eventually, she sent back: _Are you sorry for leaving, or for what happened? _


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Cheers for all the reviews! Just a heads up – I don't know if you guys call an elevator a 'lift,' but we do in England and I needed a synonym, so that happened. Also, threw in an OITNB reference for all you Red fans. As always, enjoy! (And review if you can be arsed, because puppies).**

Jane was over halfway back to her apartment and still panting when Maura's message arrived. She pulled over sharply to read it, glad it was late and there was nobody else on the road.

_Are you sorry for leaving, or for what happened?_

"Oh shit," she murmured at the small screen. She probably should have been clearer, but she'd been in such a rush to say _something_ that she hadn't even thought about her words being misinterpreted.

Shequickly typed: _For leaving like that. Obviously. _

Clutching her phone in a white-knuckle grip, Jane waited with increasing trepidation for an agonising couple of minutes, and flinched violently when Maura's reply came through. Eagerly, she opened it.

_I'm sorry you did. You got me pretty worked up._

Jane heartily sympathised. The liquid heat at her core didn't seem to be in any kind of hurry to dissipate, nor could she quite manage to get her breathing under control. She wanted to go back, wanted to lose herself in Maura, but she _really_ didn't want to run into her mother. Angela wasn't stupid – she must have guessed, and Jane's head was spinning from too much lust and euphoria to deal with that right now.

Apart from that, there was a side of her that was still fearful of rejection – despite all evidence to the contrary. What if those kisses, those caresses, those moans she'd coaxed from Maura's lips, had all been a fluke? What if it had all been an accident that Maura would regret in the morning? A sudden bout of temporary insanity?

Jane head-butted the steering wheel and shut her eyes tightly, wishing that the anxieties would leave her alone.

_Tell me about it. I think I need a cold shower, _she replied, thinking that would keep the tone light.

Then she put her car back into gear and drove away. Maura's answer was almost immediate, but Jane forced herself to wait the extra five minutes until she pulled up at her apartment before she read it.

_A cold shower? How dull. I've taken matters into my own hands._

"Her own hands," Jane repeated hollowly.

Sweet Jesus. Now _that_ was quite the image. Jane's breath hitched between her teeth. The heat had returned tenfold. She _burned_. In her mind's eye, she could see Maura slowly sliding one elegant hand into her underwear. She pictured the movement of fingers beneath damp silk.

After that, Jane really couldn't think of anything more eloquent than: _Oh really?_

It was too hot for her in the car now, so Jane swiftly climbed out and locked it. Then, in a vain attempt to cool herself down, she stood on the sidewalk and bit down hard on her thumb.

Somewhere out there, Maura was bucking and writhing to the feel of her own hand, full of thoughts and memories of Jane, and this idea was almost too much for the detective. She couldn't hold back the hoarse moan that rose from the back of her throat.

The phone vibrated. Another reply from Maura. Jane was nearly afraid to read it, unsure she could handle what the doctor might tell her. She really wished she hadn't left. Like, really _really. _More than anything in the world.

With a hammering heart, Jane opened the text.

_Mmm. Naturally I'd prefer it was you fucking me right now, but this'll have to do._

Jane choked. Her phone slipped from between nerveless fingers and clattered onto the sidewalk. Her legs turned to jelly and she sat down hard on the hood of her car.

_Holy shit, Maura._

* * *

Basking in the light of a Jane-induced afterglow, Maura gazed up at her bedroom's high ceiling. Her audacity in sending the detective that last text had surprised even her, but she'd been too stimulated at that point to care. When Jane's reply came through –_ I'll make you pay for that – _Maura decided that teasing Jane was her new favourite project. Especially if the detective was so eager to deal out this so-called 'payback.'

She stretched out across her bed, revelling in lingering pleasure and the delicious languor that had a hold of her limbs. It wasn't the first time her thoughts had gone to Jane during such activities, but it _was _the first time she had anything to base her imagination on. She'd lacked a frame of reference, so to speak.

Now she knew the fervour with which Jane kissed, the way she pulled at Maura's hair, and how her husky voice lowered in pitch when unrestrained desire mounted.

_We kissed, _she thought with no small measure of exhilaration. _Hell, we did more than just kiss. That was making out at its finest._

Thinking of Jane, Maura rolled over and fell asleep with a smile on her face.

* * *

It was Monday morning. Maura had been awoken by a phone call from CSRU asking if they could send someone to pick up a report she had checked out before she was shot. However, seeing as she hadn't left the house in days, Maura decided that she would drive to the precinct and deliver the papers herself.

There was a second level to her wanting to head to BPD – she and Jane hadn't spoken since Saturday night and their kiss; Maura was worried the detective was avoiding her. Intellectually, she knew there should be no reason for Jane to behave like that, nor did she think she had any real cause to fear it, but she could still not manage to assuage the doubts that gnawed at her stomach. She was desperately hoping to run into the other woman at Police HQ.

And indeed, her wish was granted almost as soon as she stepped into the foyer. Jane and Korsak emerged from the stairwell. He was in his usual suit and tie, while she was clad in lycra work-out shorts and a Boston Homicide raglan t-shirt. Her hair was pulled back into a dishevelled ponytail and, from the sheen of moisture drying on her skin, Maura could tell she'd just come out of the gym. In contrast to Maura's keen appraisal of her, Jane barely looked at the ME. Hurt, Maura tried to catch Jane's eye, while the detective seemed to be deliberately circumventing her gaze.

_What did I do? _Maura thought unhappily. _What's wrong with her now?_

"Dr. Isles!" Korsak greeted her warmly – another contrast to Jane, who said nothing. "How are you today?"

"Very well, Sergeant Detective, thank you."

"What are you doing here?" Jane asked without any kind of prelude.

"I'm just dropping some papers to Senior Criminalist Chang," Maura replied, confused by Jane's offhand tone. She saw puzzlement register on Korsak's face too.

"I need to speak to Susie as well," Jane breezed and began to walk away, shooting back over her shoulder: "Come along then, Dr. Isles."

Korsak cocked an eyebrow. "You two had an argument?"

Frowning, Maura shrugged and rushed after Jane into the elevator. She opened her mouth to say something but as soon as the elevator doors closed, Jane's demeanour immediately changed. She turned to the doctor and Maura could easily read the lust emblazoned in her gaze. Maura found herself rooted to the spot as Jane stepped behind her and ran her hands down the doctor's arms. When Jane's hands reached her waist, she felt her breathing quicken, and she heard Jane's do the same.

"I've been thinking about the other night," Jane murmured as she gently drew Maura's hair back over the doctor's shoulder to expose her throat. Jane's pelvis pressed firmly against the doctor's rear, and Maura could feel the detective's breasts touching her back.

"Oh?" Maura uttered.

"Mmm." Maura could feel Jane's voice vibrate against her skin as the detective softly kissed her neck. Another kiss, higher this time.

"I've been thinking about how I could make it up to you."

"I can think of a few ways," Maura breathed coyly.

"Oh believe me, so can I." Jane promised with a smirk. Her teeth grazed Maura's earlobe, and she felt a shiver run through the good doctor. "But I also owe you some payback for that text."

It was Maura's turn to smirk. "I was only telling you the truth."

One of Jane's hands had made it inside the doctor's blouse and was now moving tantalisingly slowly up the margin of her stomach. Her breath hitched as the detective's fingers floated across the underside of her bra, and then began to caress their way downwards with torturous indolence. The other hand grasped Maura's hip domineeringly, ensuring there wasn't even a hairsbreadth of space between their two bodies.

Maura ground back into Jane as the detective teasingly ran her index finger along the inside of the waistband of the ME's underwear.

The elevator beeped as they reached the basement morgue level. Maura broke away and smacked the button that would keep the doors closed a little longer. Then she seized Jane with a hand either side of her neck and pulled her into a fiery, throat-swabbing kiss. The detective gasped through the kiss as Maura shoved her roughly against the side wall of the lift. Dimly, Maura felt a stab of pain in her chest, but adrenaline and harsh longing rapidly nullified it.

She hooked one hand around the rear of Jane's knee and raised it up, so she could grind tighter between Jane's legs as she kissed her harder. For her part, the detective was drowning in that heady kiss, and she clung to Maura as though she were a life raft. The doctor's fingertips dug sharply into the back of Jane's thigh and eagerly slid higher.

Jane's head rolled back and she whimpered as Maura began to kiss a trail down one side of her throat. Teeth nipped, her tongue tasted, and each touch of those full lips sent jolts of sensation shivering all through the detective's body. Jane growled as Maura's mouth found a particularly sensitive spot and latched onto it, sucking hard, and teasing with her tongue.

Another beep signalled that the elevator was about to open. Jane punched the control panel clumsily, which caused them to begin rising. The detective couldn't care at that moment, and Maura didn't even notice.

The lift ground to a halt and, since neither of them currently had the coordination or presence of mind to push any buttons – their hands were too occupied anyway – the doors hissed loudly and began to open. There was a foot-wide window into the steamy elevator before either of them realised what was happening.

"Dr. Isles?" enquired a concerned voice. "Is that you? You alright?"

Maura sprang away with such power that she almost collided with the opposite side of the box, while crying out: "He's not an eggplant, he's retarded!"

Silence.

Complete and utter silence. Fortunately for them, they hadn't arrived on a busy floor. Instead, only Frankie was waiting beyond the doors. The younger Rizzoli narrowed his eyes distrustfully, looking from one woman to the other.

"Why are you standing on one leg?" he asked his sister suspiciously.

Her mouth hanging open foolishly, Jane lowered the offending limb. "No reason."

Having been too shocked by the violent movement and the sudden void in front of her to really hear what Maura said, it took a moment for the other woman's words to filter into Jane's lust-fogged mind.

_He's not an eggplant, he's retarded. Eggplant._

The phrase sank in at last. The detective threw her head back and laughed, wondering what on earth could possibly have possessed the ME to use _that _as a cover.

"Eggplant? What did I miss?" Frankie demanded.

When Maura only glared at both Rizzolis, and Jane couldn't speak for hilarity, Frankie merely stood there, hoping the two women hadn't lost the plot completely.

Then he saw the reddish mark darkening on the side of his sister's neck.

Frankie's lips formed an 'oh' of understanding, and he quickly retreated, jabbing the button that would make the elevator doors close again as he did so. There were some things he didn't want to know about. He shook his head vigorously as if trying to dislocate the conclusions he'd just been forced to come to. Though he was certainly happy Jane and Maura seemed to be finally going somewhere, but he really didn't want any details. After all, it was his sibling standing there with the fresh love bite.

"An eggplant! What the hell, Maura?" Jane managed to get out between fits of laughter.

Blushing Maura swore vehemently and told her angrily to go do something that – while certainly creative – was anatomically impossible, which only made Jane laugh harder.

"You can't talk," Maura snapped, "You ran off yelling nonsensically about foxes!"

Jane let out another howl of mirth and yanked the doctor into a bear hug. "We sure cornered the market on idiocy here. Don't ever change," she giggled.

The detective pulled away enough to kiss Maura's scowling lips. The doctor could feel Jane smile against her mouth and felt a surge of affection. When Jane broke the kiss, Maura finally allowed herself to chuckle, which set the other woman off laughing once more.

"My god, Maura, I love you." Jane sniggered.

The doctor straightened in surprise. "You do?"

"When you say shit like that, yeah," Jane replied, forcing a broad grin and swiftly deflecting.

"I panicked."

"Confused the hell out of poor Frankie." She snickered, "Did you see his face?"

"I did." Maura said seriously, "He knew exactly what we'd been up to, Jane."

The detective shrugged. It was hardly the classiest way of coming out, but it was the route that involved the lowest number of tremendously awkward conversations. So what if her brother knew she'd been fooling around in an elevator? Through accidental circumstances – much like this one – she knew a lot about his sex life that she'd rather not have ever been privy to.

As the elevator reached the lobby once more, Jane saw out of the corner of her eye that Maura was openly undressing her with her eyes. It was an unmistakable look, now that Jane finally knew what it was.

"These interruptions are deplorable," the doctor muttered. "We need to go somewhere. I'm not sure I could handle this a third time."

"Agreed, it's getting ridiculous." Jane replied huskily.

"Your place is closest. We could be there in fifteen minutes."

"Oof," the detective breathed. "I wish. But you have a hospital appointment in an hour."

Maura pouted. "There's time."

"Not for what I have in mind."

Jane smirked as she saw that sink in.

"See you around, babe," she said self-assuredly, and swaggered out of the elevator, knowing full well Maura wouldn't be able to take her eyes off her receding form.

**Ps. I'm sorry I keep cock-blocking them (or should that be c*nt shunt?) XD I won't always. Stick with me yo.**


	15. Chapter 15

"Did you drive here, Dr. Isles?" the surgeon asked sternly.

"I may have done," Maura admitted sheepishly.

"I didn't clear you for that. But you seem to have made it alive. Any pain? Any trouble at all?"

"Nothing. It felt rather good actually."

"Technically, you shouldn't be operating any kind of machinery while on your pain meds, but I'll let you off this time."

"I've been trying not to take the analgesics too often," Maura told him. "I'm concerned about withdrawal. Also, I've been finding I don't need them as much as I initially thought I would."

"That's a good sign. And my examination shows you're healing well."

"So will you clear me to drive?" Maura asked coyly.

The surgeon sighed. "I suppose I can."

"What about... physical activity?" she asked, biting her lip.

"Nothing strenuous. What were you thinking of doing?"

Maura's immediate thought was Jane, but she kept that to herself. That probably would fall into the category of 'strenuous.' _Maybe I should just ask flat out..._

"Oh you know. The usual. Jogging. Yoga." She paused. "Sex?"

The last word came out as a mumble. She was used to having probing conversations with medical staff, but usually they weren't about her own personal life. As she fought off a blush, Maura realised this was new territory for her and fervently hoped the man wasn't judging her.

"Definitely no jogging for at least a month – I don't want you jolting yourself around at this early stage. You could possibly get away with basic yoga, but I wouldn't recommend doing it for long periods," he told her. "What was the last thing?"

"Erm. Sex." Maura repeated, not meeting his eyes.

"Oh," He breezed, clearly unperturbed by the question. "It depends. On the face of it, I'd say you would be fine. Just don't get too rough."

This time, Maura couldn't force down the heat that flushed straight across her cheekbones. She wondered if Jane liked it rough.

"Be sure to stop if things start to hurt." The doctor continued, ignoring her embarrassment. "Please don't forget how recently you got shot, Dr. Isles. Though you're making very good progress, these things really do take considerable time. I would hate to have you damage yourself and set back your healing."

Maura nodded. "I understand."

"Since you're also a doctor, and clearly not an idiot, I will leave the decision on intercourse up to your discretion. Just―" It was his turn to blush as his professionalism cracked. "― take it easy, ok?"

When her appointment finally came to a close, Maura left with a hearty sigh of relief. The surgeon hadn't told her much she didn't already know – she could tell her wound was healing at a good rate and she knew her lung was almost back to normal – but it was excellent to hear this knowledge reinforced by someone who was used to working with live subjects.

She still had the occasional stab of unsolicited pain, and her chest would hurt if she hunched over for too long. It also hurt when she walked sometimes, or laughed too hard. Aside from that, she was lucky. The bullet had been a through-and-through, and apart from nicking her lung, it hadn't hit anything vital. Indeed, the pneumothorax had been mild – if one could call a collapsed lung 'mild' – and had quickly righted itself once the equilibrium in her chest had been restored. Even so, for someone who'd been shot only a little over two weeks ago, she was doing exceptionally well. She vividly remembered Jane's long and arduous recovery from her own bullet wound – that had been a far more severe injury – and Maura could not get over how fortunate she herself had been.

When she got back to her car, Maura took out her phone and found three new texts from Jane. The first read: _Thinking of you. Let me know how the exam goes? _Maura smiled and opened the second.

_Right. I wanna take you out. To celebrate and shit and 'cause you're you. Unless you get bad news. In which case - nevermind, wrong number!_

Maura laughed, both entertained and delighted. Was Jane suggesting a date? Though, in all honesty, when she looked back on it, a considerable percentage of the time they spent together could be viewed as dates. She doubted this would be any different – especially taking into account their recent passionate interactions.

The third message was a series of random letters that Jane had clearly only sent because she wanted attention. It had taken Maura a good long while to notice it, but the detective really was just like a puppy at times.

Selecting the first speed dial number and lifting the phone to her ear, Maura waited for Jane to pick up. The detective answered on the second ring.

"Hey Maura."

She could hear the smile in Jane's voice and grinned in return. "Hello! Just finished with the doctor – I'm coming along nicely."

"That's great news," Jane said happily. "Listen, you get my text about celebrating?"

"You mean the one where the great Jane Rizzoli asked me on a date?"

Jane laughed shyly. "I guess that's the one, yeah. Is that what I was doing?"

"I was hoping you were."

"Yeah. So. How about it? I mean you don't have to if you don't want to. I just thought maybe―"

"I'd love to," Maura interrupted before Jane could knot herself into too much of a nervous wreck. "Dinner?"

"Absolutely. I'll pick you up at 7?"

"Deal. What should I wear?"

"Really? Of all people, you're asking me?" Jane asked dryly.

"Good point."

"You're not supposed to agree!" Jane laughed, "I think I should be offended by that."

"Are you?"

"No. Obviously. Wear something classy. Not that you ever dress un-classy, but you know what I mean."

"I know just the thing. See you later!"

Jane's smile as she hung up the phone was quickly replaced by a sinking feeling – she was going to have to buy a new outfit for tonight. She didn't own anything suitable to wear to the restaurant she had in mind. Resigned to the fact this was going to be unpleasant, Jane grimaced and knew full well she would probably need help. Obviously when it came to clothes shopping, Maura's advice would have been preferable, but since this was _for _the doctor, Angela would have to do. The Rizzoli matriarch was, Jane admitted, pretty good at choosing things that would suit her daughter. If she wasn't so overbearing and annoying sometimes, the detective would have called her every time she needed something to wear.

Swiping her thumb across the touch screen of her phone, Jane selected Angela's number and lifted the device to her ear. As usual, her mother took a while to answer – she still hadn't got a handle on the smart phone Frankie had – for some perverse reason – insisted she get.

"Rizzoli." Angela answered. Jane couldn't help but smile – the older woman had been around her daughter receiving phone calls so much that she'd picked up the detective's way of answering. It also meant Angela hadn't mastered caller ID yet either.

"Hi, Ma, I need your help." Jane told her with a sigh.

"Is Maura ok?" was the immediate concerned reply. Jane doubted that any of them would lose that kneejerk response any time soon. It had just been too dicey.

"Yeah, she's fine, don't worry. Just wondering if you're free to come shopping with me today?"

"Shopping!" Angela said gleefully. "What are we shopping for?"

"I need a dress and maybe stuff to go with it."

Her mother made a thrilled whoop. "Oh Janie! What's the occasion?"

"Oh," Jane said lightly, cursing herself for not thinking ahead to prepare something to counter that very inevitable question. "Me and Maura―"

"Maura and I."

"Really, Ma? _Really?"_

"You know she'd say it if she were here, Jane."

The detective bit back an oath. "You're right," she said through gritted teeth. Correcting her grammar was only cute when Maura did it. "Anyway, Maura _and I _are having dinner tonight. Just celebrating some good news from the doctor. Besides, it'll be nice to hang out somewhere other than a hospital or her living room for a change."

There was a thudding sound as Angela covered the receiver with her thumb. Jane thought she could hear voices in the background.

"Ma? Who you talking to?"

"Sorry, Janie, Constance is here. Just a second."

_Oh God, _Jane thought, _If she invites Constance... _

"Come pick us up in an hour, Janie. We know just the place!"

_Us. Shit. I knew it._

Jane hung up, thinking that this afternoon was going to be even more of an 'experience' than she'd first thought.

* * *

It turned out that Angela was more than happy to let Constance choose where they shopped, and the two women wouldn't allow Jane to argue. Constance took them into a boutique so posh that it served rosé for potential patrons to sip while they browsed. Knowing that at least half of the clothes she was now surrounded by probably cost more than her car, Jane was distinctly uncomfortable. Especially when an assistant passed her four dresses and a glass of wine, and then shunted her into a changing room.

"I'm not sure about his, Constance," Jane said anxiously, as she juggled her drink with a pile of silk and hangers, trying desperately not to spill the rosé or drop anything.

"Nonsense, Detective Rizzoli! We're simply here to get a feel." She lowered her voice conspiratorially, "And for the free wine, of course."

Angela giggled and sipped at her glass.

"Lighten up, Jane," Constance ordered, gesturing. "Even you must like the _pink_ _stuff _occasionally."

The detective took a careful mouthful of wine. She had to admit the _pink stuff _– as Constance so patronisingly called it – was pretty good, but she wasn't about to say that aloud.

"I couldn't afford any of these," Jane murmured. She didn't like being put in this position, and she wasn't impressed that her mother had helped bring her here.

"Don't be ridiculous," Constance expostulated. "I must see to it that you're well-dressed for your date with my daughter!"

Jane spat out the gulp of wine she had just been about to swallow. "Excuse me?" she said softly.

"Constance," Angela said warningly. "I think Jane could be right – maybe we should go somewhere a little more realistic. These dresses cost more than I make in a month."

Constance sighed. "I understand; I thought as much. I was simply hoping we could scam a drop more of this fabulous rosé, but _c'est la vie. _Let's go!"

What was the deal with rich people loving free shit so much? It's not as though they needed it. Although, in this case, Jane thought that Constance just loved to fuck with the system, which Jane couldn't help but admire. Provided the obstinate woman didn't get Angela into any trouble, of course.

As they left the boutique, Jane foolishly thought that things could only improve from there. This opinion was quickly rescinded in the next shop they visited when Constance insisted she strip down to her underwear.

Angela was trying – and failing – to hold back laughter. "I wouldn't argue with her," she spluttered out.

"We need to see what you have to work with, Detective," Constance said seriously, "How else will we find something suitable?"

Jane swore under her breath, and slammed the door to her changing room. There was a lot she would go through in the name of Maura Isles, but she drew the line at being poked and prodded by her mother and Constance while semi-naked.

She heard the two mothers chuckling through the bamboo door of the fitting booth. After that, Constance became all business, taking charge completely. She brought Jane dress after dress to try on, and Jane couldn't fault her choices. There was no denying the woman had impeccable taste. _Just like Maura really_, Jane mused. _It definitely runs in the family._

The sixth dress was one Jane thought she'd never want to take off. It was a teal colour, which went well with her dark hair, and seemed to emphasise the tanned hue of her Italian complexion. From the front, it came down to mid thigh and seemed almost modest, with a loose cowl neckline that showed off a tantalising hint of cleavage. From behind it was a different story – a backless vee dropped down from her shoulders to a couple of inches above her buttocks. The dress was made of a tremendously soft, silky material that clung to her lithe form and seemed to just about faintly shimmer in the light as she moved.

Angela's jaw dropped as Jane came out of the fitting room. "Oh Janie," she breathed.

Constance narrowed her eyes and scrutinised Jane intently, until eventually she smiled and nodded. "That's the one," she said simply.

Jane grinned, pleased they seemed to like the dress as much as she did. "It's perfect."

"You look so beautiful!" Angela cooed happily.

"You have shoes and accessories, yes?" Constance asked, still business-like.

Jane nodded. "I think so, yeah. Black shoes?"

"Black shoes will work."

"You have appropriate underwear?" Constance queried matter-of-factly.

Angela winced. "I'm not sure I need to know about my daughter's underwear choices."

"You can't wear a bra with that, you know," the European continued breezily as though the other woman hadn't spoken. Angela seemed torn between amusement and wanting to shove her fingers in her ears.

"I know," Jane told her in a tone that brooked no further comment. "We're done here."

* * *

6:55 found Maura sitting apprehensively in her kitchen, staring at the clock. She'd been ready for the past three quarters of an hour. It was ridiculous, she knew, to be this nervy about seeing Jane, and she hadn't expected the first date jitters to hit her this hard, all things considered.

Minutes ticked by torturously. The clock read 6:58 when a knock at the door snapped her out of her anxious reverie. She was on her feet before she'd even made the conscious decision to stand, and had taken three steps before _that _decision had percolated through her brain. The sudden movement jarred the wound in her abdomen slightly, but she was too excited to pay much attention to it.

She opened the door eagerly and found Jane standing shyly on her front step. The detective unconsciously let out a low whistle at the sight of Maura.

"Hi," she said simply.

Jane was wearing a long, dark grey coat, which hung open to show off the fore of a dress that hugged her figure alluringly. On her feet, were a pair of black heels, and, with a smile, Maura noted the other woman had even painted her toenails to go with her dress. The detective's hair cascaded in a waterfall of curls over her shoulders, and framed her face appealingly. Maura could see Jane had put more effort than usual into her makeup – her soulful eyes were lined with kohl and stood out stunningly from behind long, mascara-ed eyelashes. A touch of lipstick darkened her mouth and made her lips look fuller.

"You look amazing." Maura said softly.

Jane grinned. "Straight back at you, Dr Isles."

Maura knew she looked good – there was no way she could put this amount of effort into her appearance and _not_ look good. She'd taken time styling her hair into an artful up-do, and, to go with it, had meticulously applied her makeup in a more striking look that she would normally go for, but tonight she really felt like making a lasting impression. Particularly since she'd been wearing a hospital gown a lot of the time recently. She wanted to take Jane's breath away, and – from the look on the detective's face – it had worked. _Just wait until she sees my dress, _Maura thought with an internal smirk. At the moment, it was hidden by her coat.

"Ready?" Jane asked, her voice a little hoarser than usual.

"Very."

In a show of chivalry that made Maura chuckle, Jane opened the car door for her, and offered her a hand to help her inside, which the doctor took gladly – more for the skin on skin contact than anything else. She'd always loved Jane's hands – they had so many stories to tell. Idly, she wondered what had caused the small scar she could feel at the base of the other woman's thumb.

As Jane put the vehicle into gear and drove off, Maura marvelled at how much had changed since she'd last ridden in it. Besides the fact the detective had clearly washed and vacuumed it in preparation for this evening, it was amazing the difference in Maura herself. Last time, she had been so fragile. Now, she felt more alive than she had in a long time. Excitement flushed through her arteries, quelling the nervousness that had been there before.

"So, where are we going?" Maura asked lightly.

Jane smiled. "It's a surprise."

"Your idea of a date better not be taking me to Fenway Park."

"But it's so beautiful in the moonlight," the detective quipped. "You really think I'd get dressed up like this for that?"

"I suppose it wouldn't be entirely appropriate. Where then?"

"I told you – it's a surprise."

"I didn't think you liked surprises."

"But I like surprising you. We're almost there."

They were in an upscale part of Boston, not too far from Maura's house, and it wasn't long before Jane turned off into a side street and then into a parking lot.

Again, she insisted on opening the car door for Maura, which the doctor still couldn't help grinning at. There was just something so goofily romantic about the gesture, and it made her stomach flip in such a way that made her feel almost like a teenager again. Jane led them around a building that seemed vaguely familiar to Maura and they found themselves in front of an upmarket restaurant. '_Le Beau Truc' _announced a sign in elegant writing.

"You're taking me to the same restaurant Jesse Wade took you to?"

"Er. Maybe."

"The man who killed Manny Vega, yes?"

"I thought you might like their nouveau take on escargot," Jane said defensively. "I've heard it's brilliant."

Maura laughed. "So you do pay attention to me!"

"Always," Jane replied, offering Maura her arm, which the doctor readily took. Entering the restaurant, the detective smiled. "I'm ashamed to admit it, but I've never been entirely sure what an escargot is."

"It's a snail, Jane."

"You're kidding! A snail? Fuck that."

Maura smirked. "Too late to back out now, Rizzoli."


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Major thanks to my platonic life partner/own personal eggplant for reminding me what a 'truc' was and for being more of a girl than I am. This chapter was partially fuelled by mead, because I'm a reserved Brit, but a Viking at heart. Reviews always much appreciated. **

"Reservation for Rizzoli," Jane said, using assertiveness to hide the fact she was intimidated by stepping into such a ritzy establishment.

"Follow me _si vous plaît_."

The waiter led them through the restaurant, which was decorated with chic exposed brickwork and real log fires. Jane's heels clicked loudly against the polished hardwood floor. Their table – as she had requested – was out of the way of the main area, in a secluded corner overlooking the well appointed patio outside. There was already a candle burning on it.

"May I take your coats, ladies?"

Ever sceptical, Jane was certain the man wasn't really French, but she had to admit his accent sounded pretty authentic. She shrugged out of her outerwear and handed it to him. Opposite her, Maura was taking her time with the buttons on the front of her coat. Jane's attention was snagged by the way the doctor's fingers worked the fastenings. With a provocative grace that wasn't lost on Jane – or the waiter for that matter – Maura finally opened her coat and slipped out of it.

Jane almost swallowed her tongue. When the waiter got in the way of her view of the doctor, it took a whole hell of a lot of restraint not to shove him away. As soon as he was gone, Jane drank in what Maura had been hiding beneath her coat.

She was wearing a deep burgundy dress, which was a truly gorgeous colour against her complexion. It came down to about mid-thigh, and was ruched asymmetrically across the front, with a shock of black lace detailing one side of her stomach. The neckline was wide – open to where her bra straps would be – and higher on the sides and back of the neck, almost collared somehow, and it came down in a sweetheart shape, revealing a modest amount of Maura's stellar cleavage. The shoulder straps were made of more black lace, which stood out starkly from the doctor's pale skin. The material clung to Maura's every contour as though each individual stitch had been sewn with this exquisite woman in mind.

"Shall we sit?" Maura asked. A smile played around her lips, and her eyes twinkled as she watched Jane struggle to form words. It had been the exact reaction she'd been going for.

Jane was acutely aware that she was staring at Maura's throat. Or more specifically, the point at which her neck joined her shoulder, which was so stunningly showcased by the black lace, and the way she'd put her hair up. Trying to banish the vision of her mouth latching onto that very spot, Jane nodded vigorously and quickly sat down at the table. Maura joined her, crossing her legs smoothly, and continuing to take immense pleasure in the way Jane couldn't control her eyes or expression. She'd found out the detective was incredibly good at hiding her feelings, with one exception – lust. And it was lust that was so clearly etched across the other woman's mien right now.

"This is a lovely place," Maura said brightly.

"Uh, yeah." Jane mentally shook herself, jolting away the desire that was pushing her to sweep the place settings away and have her way with the doctor right there on that five-star tabletop. She cleared her throat. "I thought you'd like it."

A moment later, a different waiter appeared carrying a silver tray with two champagne flutes on it. Each was filled with a faintly purplish carbonated liquid. He deposited them on their table with a flourish and then returned a moment later, setting down a couple of menus, before leaving once more.

"What's this?" Maura asked, picking up the drink.

"Kir Royale."

"Champagne and crème de cassis? Wow."

"I phoned ahead." Jane explained. "I figured I should do this whole thing right. I thought it'd make an impression. Wouldn't want to be weighed and found wanting now, would I?"

"I don't think that's possible." Maura took a sip, and her eyes rolled back with pleasure. "That's wonderful."

Jane took a mouthful. Maura was right – it was truly delectable. The champagne combined with the blackcurrant twang of the liqueur was an excellent mix. _God bless the French, _the detective thought. The absurd amount of money she'd spent on these drinks was more than worth the look on Maura's face right now. She'd desperately wanted this first 'proper' date to be perfect, and, so far, it was coming pretty damn close to that.

The conversation had lulled, and she belatedly realised she was staring at Maura intently. _I ought to say something. I can't just stare at her like this all evening. _The chemistry between them already threatened to burn a hole in the table cloth. There was only so much eye-fucking they could get away with before they'd even ordered.

"I really like your dress," Jane said lamely to break the silence. '_Like' _was a supreme understatement. It wasn't mere 'liking' that was giving her a hard time breathing in any kind of regular pattern.

"Why thank you," Maura smiled.

"I like the lace, and it's got a... Pretty neckline?" she told the doctor clumsily. Jane had never felt more gauche than she did at that particular moment. _Why did I comment on that? Now she's going to know I can barely keep my eyes off her chest._

"A Queen Anne cut, in fact." Maura told her. The doctor's eyes twinkled as she ran one finger along the seam of her décolletage. "One of the more overlooked styles, I find. Most people don't know what it is."

Jane wanted to follow that finger with her tongue and teeth. Stuck for something to say that wasn't wholly lascivious, she opted for a joke. "There was me about to call it a sweetheart neckline – I must be a total heathen."

"You know what that is?"

"Of course I do. Believe it or not, I do know a little about fashion. I even know who Roland Mouret is – that dress you wore to T.J's christening was his."

Maura laughed. "I'm impressed, Jane."

Jane winked and gestured with her champagne flute. "That was the intention. I Googled."

"Always doing your gumshoe thing!" Maura teased. "I must say your dress is simply stunning. You look beautiful tonight."

The detective grinned. "Again, that was the intention."

Jane decided on a salad to start, which surprised them both a little. Maura, naturally, went for the snails. With a small incredulous smile, the detective shook her head and couldn't help but chuckle ruefully. She loved that Maura was the kind of person who would come to a five-star restaurant, and order something she could have found at the bottom of her garden.

"So, what does _Le Beau Truc _mean anyway?" Jane asked after the waiter had moved away.

"Well, _beau _is beautiful. And a _truc _is just a generic item. I'd say it translates best as 'the beautiful thingy.'"

"Thingy?" the detective repeated flatly. "Someone called a five-star restaurant The Beautiful Thingy? What planet are they on?"

Maura laughed. "I suppose they didn't expect anyone to know what it meant."

"Unfortunately for them, you know everything." Jane smiled.

"That's a gross overstatement."

"Nah, stop being modest. You're a walking Google."

"Well, I..." Maura trailed off.

"Hey, I think it's brilliant. Beauty and brains."

They passed the brief time before their starters arrived in amicable conversation, casually sipping their drinks and barely able to take their eyes off each other for even a second. Maura really did wonder how it could have possibly taken them so long to get to this position – how had they never noticed the electricity between them? Obviously, she'd known she'd been attracted to her friend, and known that that attraction was most probably returned for quite some time, but she hadn't quite managed to fathom the depth of that allure. Now, here on a real, romantic date with Jane, it was all just so palpable, so abundantly clear. In all honesty, their level of denial and unawareness defied believe. She supposed it was really quite impressive when you actually thought about it.

The waiter brought them two plates. Maura's escargot were arranged in a wheel-shape and were coated in a buttery sauce that smelled divine. Eagerly, she dug in and hooked one out of its shell in a slick move she'd learnt years ago. She remembered sneaking out from boarding school as a teenager to restaurants that served these and it was a little nostalgic seeing them now. Her first mouthful was a taste explosion; she made a low noise of enjoyment and nodded happily at nothing in particular.

"Good escargot?" Jane said grimacing.

"Delicious, actually. Quite pungently spiced. You should try one."

"Eurgh, not a big fan of insects."

"It's a pulmonate gastropod."

"And that makes it better? I'll pass, thank you."

"No, really, eat one." Maura insisted coquettishly, "Because I fully intend to kiss you later and I don't want you being overwhelmed by how garlicky my breath is."

"I'm not sure how to respond to that."

"Just eat the damn snail, Jane."

The detective laughed, she'd already known this was a battle she'd never win. She never could turn down anything Maura wanted to do. So, with a theatrical sigh, she agreed, and picked up her fork. The doctor shook her head, and with a coy smile, proffered her own fork with a languorous turn of her wrist.

"Why Dr. Isles," Jane husked, "If this were any other food, I would think you were trying to seduce me."

"Use your imagination then."

Maura's breath caught between her teeth as Jane slowly leaned forward, affording the doctor with a view down the front of her dress to where she was _definitely _not wearing a bra. Jane teased the offered morsel up into her mouth with her tongue and sucked it indolently off the tines of the fork. She chewed slowly and swallowed. Maura made to withdraw her arm, but Jane reached out with quick lupine grace and took her wrist. The doctor's heart jumped forcefully in her chest. Never breaking eye contact, the detective came forward further and leisurely licked wayward garlic butter from where it shone on the side of Maura's knuckle.

"Mmm." The sound rumbled from somewhere deep in Jane's throat. "Delicious."

Maura's hand shook as she finally pulled it back, and she set her elbow on the table, so Jane wouldn't notice the tremor. "You certainly know how to enjoy a meal."

"Amongst other things." Jane said provocatively.

_Two can play at that game, _Maura thought. "Well I hope it's not just eating out you approach with such enthusiasm."

"It's not, but I like to take my time."

"We have that in common, as I'm sure you'll find out."

"Sooner, rather than later, I hope."

"What happened to taking your time?" Maura asked mischievously.

"I'm deceptively complex, but I think you enjoy that."

"Mmm. See, now I'm simpler. I know exactly what I want and I know how to get it. I always get what I want."

Jane leaned forward again. The view was equally distracting this time around as it had been the first. "And what is it you want?" she said softly, as the doctor's lips parted.

Maura moved in to meet her. "You're the detective, you tell me."

After two more sumptuous courses, each served with a side of delectable sexual frustration, Maura and Jane were ready to leave _Le Beau Truc_. Jane didn't even bother to put her coat on; instead, she snaked an arm around Maura's waist possessively. Maura smirked and leaned into her body. They fit well together, and drew a fair amount of stares from the other patrons as they exited the restaurant and made for the parking lot. Ordinarily, Jane thought she would have minded being looked at like that, but it was hard to be bothered by anything when Maura was this close to her.

"Susie gave me a 'get well' gift to give to you," Jane murmured into Maura's ear. "It's at my apartment. Want to swing by?"

It didn't take a genius to see the mischief dancing in the detective's eyes, nor the desire that lurked beneath it.

Jane tossed her coat into the backseat and - as soon as Maura was safely in the car with her – kicked down the clutch. The drive back to her apartment seemed torturously long. When they eventually pulled into her parking space, they both got out of the vehicle with more haste than either of them would care to admit. Gone was the chivalry of before dinner. Now Jane simply stalked around the hood of the car to where Maura stood.

And then they were kissing. Jane may have initiated it, or Maura might have done; neither could tell and neither cared. All that mattered was the feeling of mouth on mouth, of tongue on tongue, and the way the sparks that had been flying all evening could at long last mount into an inferno. When the blaze between them seemed to be reaching uncontrollable levels, Maura broke away. She knew if they continued on like that, she would end up trying to fuck Jane on the sidewalk, and she didn't think that was overly prudent.

Jane took them around the back of her building to the service staircase that didn't get used by anyone but delivery staff anymore. Having only ever entered through the main building, Maura hadn't even realised it existed. Once inside, with the door firmly closed, Jane dragged Maura back into her embrace and kissed the side of her jaw.

"Come on," Jane breathed. "Let's go."

She nipped Maura's earlobe, and then slipped away from her. She led the way up the stairs, having no doubt that the doctor would readily follow. They made it up the first flight.

"Jane," Maura breathed. "That dress."

Her hand on the small of Jane's bare back stopped the detective in her tracks. The other hand joined it almost immediately, as Maura stepped closer. Jane's eyes slid shut as the doctor ran her hands slowly up the contours of her back; the touch wasn't hard, but it wasn't soft either. One hand pushed her hair away. She felt Maura's lips touch the base of her neck, and then travel down to the next vertebrae. The doctor's fingernails grazed along the rear of Jane's arms and before she took hold of her wrists. Maura laid Jane's hands flat on the wall in front of them, and then her own hands came to rest on the detective's hips.

"Don't move," Maura whispered, and carried on kissing around the back of her neck and shoulders. Her fingers ghosted up Jane's ribs, and lightly brushed the underside of her breasts, tantalizing both women. The detective's breathing was growing more and more ragged as Maura continued to map her body. One hand slipped inside the back of Jane's dress. The brunette gasped at the sudden feeling of Maura's fingernails on the skin of her stomach. Maura traced the contours of Jane's abdominal muscles, revelling in the feeling of finally being able to touch them with impunity. She brought her hand higher and teased a circle around Jane's breast with two fingertips. She caressed her hand around again in a smaller circle this time. And then a smaller circle and a smaller circle after that, until finally she trailed over Jane's nipple with a touch lighter than a whisper.

Jane moaned. It was a deep sound, visceral and primal, and it went straight to Maura's core. The doctor's fingers returned to Jane's nipple, and she felt it harden against her touch. She gently pinched the nub of flesh. Jane's pelvis bucked.

"All this on the first date, Maura? Are we moving kinda fast?" Jane panted over her shoulder.

"We've essentially been dating for two years." Maura told her, interspersing her words with kisses to the side and back of Jane's neck.

Jane turned to face her; her eyes were glazed with lust. "Yeah, but―"

"If anything, we're moving _slowly. _Now, shut up and kiss me."

At that command, all hesitation went out the window. Jane slammed Maura against the wall, and crushed her mouth to hers with unbridled lust. It was an artless kiss, full of sheer unforgiving need. The detective's hands slid up Maura's legs, pushing up her dress and revealing an expanse of creamy thigh. One hand slipped behind, clutching, kneading, at her rear. The doctor's hips ground against Jane's own with growing fervour, as the detective's roaming hands became increasingly bold.

Abruptly, they broke apart.

"I can't do this," Jane said raggedly.

"What?" Maura exclaimed, "You'd better be joking!"

The doctor was panting, and now she looked well and truly pissed off. Hurt also registered in her expression. Her bosom was what the old novelists used to call 'agitated,' but if those writers had seen Maura Isles in this state – with her eyes so full of primal heat – in _that _dress, they would have had to find a whole new way to describe feminine distress.

"Shit. I mean, like this." Jane gesticulated wildly, regretting not being more specific. "We can't fuck in a stairwell! If not my bed, can you at least make it to the floor of my apartment?"

Immediately, relief flashed across Maura's face. She laughed that sensual laugh that sent chills down Jane's spine and stepped forward, so her body was flush against the other woman's. "So, lead the way, detective," she husked.

Jane couldn't stop herself from coming back to taste those lips. She clutched Maura, sliding her tongue into the blonde's willing mouth. One or other – or both – of them moaned at the contact.

Maura stepped away, moving just out of Jane's arm range. She took the next set of stairs at a swift pace, throwing a smirk over her shoulder. "Keep up!"

There was that laugh again. The one that came from deep in her throat, and made Jane's heart race. The detective all but ran after her. Were it not for the heels, she would have sprinted up those steps.

Watching Maura climb, Jane had to press her palms together firmly to stop herself reaching out and grabbing at the ME's impeccable rear. She thought refraining from touching the other woman was the hardest thing she'd ever accomplished. They made it all the way up to Jane's floor, before there was any kind of lapse in control.

Though, that said, when the loss of restraint arrived, it was a pretty fucking big one.

This time, it was Jane who ended up flat against the wall. Maura kissed her hungrily as one of the doctor's hands went to the detective's breast, tracing patterns over and around her stiff nipple through the soft material of her dress. The other hand snuck between Jane's legs. The Italian growled deep in her throat as Maura's fingers made contact with the damp lace of her underwear. The sound – so animalistic – stole whatever breath the doctor had left, and robbed her of all sense of reason. With her thumb, she pushed aside the wet material, and ran her index finger along the length of Jane's sex. She started making circles, loving the way Jane moved and felt in her hand.

"Maura, I... Neighbours." The detective managed to choke out incoherently. "Inside."

"Inside?"

"Please," she breathed.

Maura slid two skilful fingers inside her. Jane's hips jerked and her head rolled back; she dug her short fingernails into the skin of the doctor's biceps.

"Fuck, Maura." She moaned against the other woman's mouth, barely able to form words. "I meant inside the apartment."

The blonde's throaty laugh vibrated against Jane's lips as the fingers withdrew languorously. "Oh, I know, but I wanted to do that."

With unsteady hands, Jane got her keys out of her bag. She fumbled for a moment, too caught up in what Maura had been doing between her legs. After an eternity of shaky scrabbling, she managed to get the key in the lock.

The hand was back. Maura's lips found her mouth, as her fingers resumed their slick song. Jane gasped into the kiss, feeling pressure mounting. Her legs threatened to give way completely. She blindly struggled with the door, turning the key more by luck than judgement. Judgement, after all, had abandoned her entirely.

Together they tumbled into her apartment, slamming the door behind them. Half pushed, half collapsing, Jane sagged backwards onto the floor. Before she'd even registered what had happened, Maura was on top of her, straddling her hips and pulling her face up to meet Maura's questing mouth in a savage kiss. The doctor caught Jane's lower lip in her teeth and bit down hard, eliciting a sharp gasp from her throat and sending more liquid heat pooling between her thighs.

The doctor withdrew far enough to slip her hands beneath the hem of Jane's dress and yank it straight off over her head. Maura threw the garment heedlessly to one side, overcome and undone by the sight of the detective's mostly naked form – the defined muscles of her abdomen, the swell and curve of her breasts, and the faint protrusion of her hip bones.

Grinning, Jane sat up and went right for the zip at the back of Maura's dress. She tugged it down in one smooth movement. The doctor obligingly removed it, unveiling a matching set of wholly revealing midnight blue silk underwear, trimmed with black lace in all the right places.

Jane licked her lips. She ran her hands from Maura's knees, up over the curve of her waist to the bottom of her ribs. With a single, practiced flick, she'd unfastened the doctor's bra. Maura shrugged quickly out of it. Jane moaned at the sight of the other woman's breasts, weighing them in her hands the way she'd longed to do for what felt like eternity. The doctor's nails jabbed into the skin of Jane's back, as the brunette's thumbs grazed teasingly over her aching nipples.

She grabbed Maura's hips, her fingers digging into the doctor's flesh, as she used the purchase to roll them until Jane was on top and between Maura's legs. Their mouth met, tongues slipping against one another, slower now, at odds with their previous ferocity. Without breaking the kiss, the detective moved to one side so that she was only straddling one of Maura's thighs, instead of her whole waist. Bracing her bodyweight with her right elbow, Jane brought her other hand to Maura's breast, rubbing the soft flesh, delighting in the way the blonde writhed beneath her. Soon she replaced that touch with her lips, kissing and sucking. Her teeth toyed with the doctor's nipple.

Jane's free hand travelled downwards. Her fingernails raked across flushed skin, and continued until she found the material of Maura's underwear. She loved the way the wet silk felt. She traced patterns over the moist fabric, listening to the small sounds that broke loose from the doctor's lips.

"Please." Maura breathed.

Jane slipped her hand into Maura's underwear and the sound the smaller woman made as the detective finally touched her could only be described as a snarl. The doctor's hands clutched at Jane's sweat-slicked shoulders as Jane's fingers slipped into a rhythm that neither of them had to search for. The detective continued suckling Maura's breast, growing less and less gentle as she felt the doctor's climax build against her hand. She thrust against Maura's leg to the same beat that her fingers worked too. That thigh – both soft and hard at the same time – flexed against her centre and caught her exactly where she wanted it to.

"Fuck," Maura groaned, her head lolling back against the floor. "Kiss me."

Barely had she uttered the words when Jane's mouth captured her own. Maura's back arched and Jane felt the woman's body begin to quiver. It felt so fucking good. Maura's head rocked back and the cords in her neck stood out as she tensed forcefully, pressing her palms to her eyes and shuddering powerfully. Caught in the throes of intense orgasm, Maura cried out. Once. Twice. And then went slack in Jane's arms.

_I did that, _Jane thought simply, her intellect fully wreathed in lust. _I gave her that. _A stupid smile plastered across her face, she slumped down onto the floor. Searing need pounded across her every nerve ending, but she was content to watch Maura struggle to regain the power of conscious thought. The woman still hadn't opened her eyes, and she twitched with the occasional aftershock.

It was the most beautiful thing Jane had ever seen.

It didn't take long for Maura's eyelids to slide open once more. She met Jane's heated stare with her own twinkling gaze. Languidly, the doctor moved against her body and playfully brushed her lips over the detective's. Maura moved carefully and deliberately, because her limbs felt as though they were made of jelly. She tasted the salt on Jane's skin as she kissed the side of the woman's throat. She could feel the detective's racing pulse beneath her lips. Her hands trailed caresses over the landscape of Jane's body, learning each and every peak and valley. Jane twisted and turned in response to her touch.

Lowering her body, Maura kissed a trail along the hard planes of Jane's stomach. She loved the way the detective moved when she felt the pressure of Maura's lips and hands. Her fingers teasing the other woman's breasts, the doctor kissed lower. She caught the waistband of Jane's underwear in her teeth and then let the elastic snap down. Repeating the move, she took more of the black lace in her mouth and dragged downwards. Jane lifted her pelvis to allow Maura to remove her underwear. She flicked it away and positioned herself between the detective's knees.

Pausing, the blonde raked her eyes over the other woman. She started with the pupils that were dilated with lust, then to those kiss-swollen lips, and the breath that came in quick pants. The heaving chest. The delicious curve of her breasts and nipples just begging to be touched. The toned expanse of stomach. And lower. Jane felt that look like a physical caress. She swallowed.

The doctor dipped her head, so Jane could feel her breath tantalize the hypersensitive skin between her hipbones. The detective's hips rolled up, seeking more contact, which the smaller woman was eager to give. She nibbled the inside of Jane's thigh, and then kissed the point where her leg joined her pelvis. Then she kissed the other side, working her way inwards. She withdrew her mouth for the slightest of seconds, so that all Jane could feel was the swift pant of her breathing.

In contrast, the detective had forgotten how to breathe.

Maura dipped her tongue inside Jane and then moved upwards, tasting the detective fully in one slow lick. She repeated the action, keeping almost torturously unhurried. She moaned, knowing that Jane would feel the sound vibrate over her centre. The detective's hands fisted in her hair, ripping it from the pins that had confined it. Each of the brunette's exhalations escaped with a gasp of pleasure, as Maura continued those long, slow licks. Over and over. The doctor could tell her measured pace was driving Jane crazy.

Gradually, she increased the pace. Jane's nails dug into the floor. She cried out as Maura slid a finger inside her, followed by a second, and began to thrust into her. All the while, her tongue made circles where Jane needed it most.

Jane yelled wordlessly as Maura took her to the brink time and again, tormenting, teasing, sending pleasure throbbing through her body until she could no longer tell which way was up. Colours flashed in the periphery of her vision. Finally, it was too much, and she crashed straight over the edge. Her whole body turned rigid and then quaked violently as climax took her and didn't let go until she thought she would surely black out.

It took a long time for her to come back to herself. When she did, she found Maura gazing lovingly at her. Her eyes lidded, Jane stared back. She couldn't quite breathe properly yet. She didn't think she'd ever felt something so intense.

All she could say was: "Holy shit, Maura."


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: That last chapter seemed like it went down well XD Thanks for all your reviews! This should be a pleasing mix of cute and plot. Enjoy. Be sure to gimme some feedback if you have a spare moment :) **

Maura could feel the sweat drying on her skin. Every one of her nerve endings still sang with the aftermath of pleasure, and a warm satisfaction had settled into her joints. She rolled her head to look at Jane, who was simply watching her. There was a smile playing about the detective's lips, and the expression in those deep brown eyes was positively giddy.

"Hey," Jane rasped; her voice was even more husky than usual. The sounds Maura's tongue and fingers had dragged from her throat seemed to have had rather an effect on her larynx. Not to mention the rest of her – Jane wasn't sure that she could move.

"Hey, yourself," Maura smiled. Her hand idly traced a pattern over the soft skin of Jane's stomach. She felt the detective's abdominal muscles twitch as her fingernail caught a ticklish spot. They both giggled.

The hardwood floor of Jane's apartment wasn't exactly comfortable or warm, and Maura felt herself shiver with sudden awareness of the low temperature. She'd not noticed it before, which she supposed was understandable. Jane's body radiated heat, so the doctor burrowed into the other woman's side, snuggling up as close as she could.

"You're cold," Jane complained.

"I'm stealing your warmth." Maura told her.

"There's no way in hell I could bitch about that right now. Not after what you just did to me."

The doctor felt Jane's chuckle echo against her cheek and couldn't help but grin. The detective's arms tightened around her and pulled her even closer. Still feeling the chill, Maura raised her legs and pressed her feet to Jane's calves.

"Jesus!" Jane suddenly exclaimed, tensing forcefully. "Is that your _feet? _ They're fucking freezing, Maura!"

The detective feebly rolled to one side, away from the icy touch of Maura's toes. Laughing Maura rolled in the opposite direction, onto the fluffy rug that sat below Jane's sofa.

"I have bad circulation," Maura said in between her laughter.

"Felt like you'd been skinny dipping in the Arctic," Jane grumbled.

"If I'd done that, I would most certainly be suffering from hypothermia right now. In fact, I would have probably died of a heart attack caused by cold shock response within the first minute of immersion."

"Your pillow talk could really use some work."

Maura seemed to ignore her. "Although," she continued, "If I survived the initial trauma, I could conceivably swim around for about thirty minutes before―"

"Maura, I know. You made me watch _Titanic, _remember?"

"The Titanic sank in the North Atlantic ocean, not the Arctic. And as for my pillow talk? We're currently lying on the floor, which, by the way, was your suggestion. Get me a pillow and then we're talk."

"Get your own pillow."

Maura pouted. "I'm wounded. You're the big strong detective."

"Well, this big strong detective doesn't want to move."

"Not even to take me to bed?"

Jane moaned. "Don't make me choose."

"Fine. If you don't, I'm going to carry on talking about hypothermia."

"Please―"

"In 218 B.C, in the Second Punic War, Hannibal lost more than half his men to hypothermia."

"No wonder he started eating people."

Maura glared at her, but it didn't wipe the impish grin from Jane's face. As the doctor opened her mouth to offer another piece of no-doubt fascination information, the detective quickly shunted over to her side and silenced her with a kiss. It was gentle, and sweet, and it made Maura's heart dance with happiness. She hugged Jane tightly to her body and smiled into the kiss when she felt the detective's arms close around her and do the same.

"Did you ever see this happening?" Jane whispered.

"I had hope, but I was always so uncertain that you felt anything for me. Did you?"

"In my dreams, yes. In my fantasies, definitely. But in real life?" Jane shook her head.

"I always thought we would just chug along the same as ever, until one of us found someone else and we'd drift apart."

Jane clutched her tighter. "That's really sad."

"It made sense though. But then I got shot. It's amazing what a bullet wound will do for one's perspective. It helped that you refused to leave my side the whole time."

"I would never leave you."

At that, Maura grinned so broadly it made her face ache. Abruptly, she remembered something the detective had said in the hospital. "Jane," she began, "Do you remember calling me a soufflé after you went drinking with Frost?"

Jane snorted. "I remember you telling me I'd said it, but I don't recall it actually happening. It was an analogy I came up with. I'd just told him I liked girls and went on about craving women like cake, but then I thought you were too classy for that, so I told him you were a soufflé."

Maura's body vibrated with mirth. "I'm not really sure what to make of that. You're hilarious."

Jane laughed, "I promise it made perfect sense at the time. You got a bad analogy for me?"

"Hmm," Maura pondered. "You're like a Thai dominatrix―"

"What!?" Jane exploded, shifting so she could see the other woman's face. "_Really!?"_

"Let me finish," the doctor snickered. "I mean, you aren't exactly what I had planned, but that doesn't mean you aren't wonderful. You have to imagine I'm a tourist in Bangkok for this metaphor to actually work."

Confounded, the detective stared at her a moment. Then, she threw back her head and howled with laughter. "My god, Maura, I never knew you had such a poetic soul! You're even worse at this sober, than I was drunk."

"You did ask for a _bad _analogy."

"Your brain is incredible."

"There's been a decrease in metabolic activity in cerebral cortex and a massive uptake of oxytocin, which I imagine are still effecting my thought processes."

"That sounds... painful?"

"It's the result of orgasm, Jane."

"Oh." The detective blushed. "I knew that."

Maura laughed again. This time it set off a rumble of pain in her torso. She'd forgotten her bullet wound for a blessed few hours, but now the discomfort seemed to be returning. Biting her lip thoughtfully, she calculated how long it had been since her last dose of analgesic, and was surprised to realise that she hadn't taken any that day. She'd been too wrapped up with first date jitters, and Jane, and dinner, and then more Jane to be troubled by the ever-present hurt that rippled dully through her abdomen. Indeed, she'd definitely put a fair amount of stress on it this evening, which would account for the way the pain was beginning to jar across her synapses.

Groaning, she sat up. "Ouch," she mumbled, carefully pressing a hand to the gauze taped just below her ribs.

Instantly, Jane was there. One of the detective's hands went protectively to the small of Maura's back, while the other cautiously pushed the doctor's hair away from her face. "Are you ok? Did I hurt you?"

"I'm fine," Maura said with a brave smile. "I just didn't take any painkillers today."

"Stay there," Jane ordered, standing up. "Where are they? I'll get them."

"I'm not sure where I threw my bag when we came in."

It took her a couple of minutes, but Jane finally found Maura's abandoned clutch, and brought it back to the doctor, who was now lying back on her rug with her eyes shut, looking distinctly sore. The detective broke out two pills, and then hurried to the kitchen to snag a glass of water. Maura gratefully accepted both, and quickly choked down the painkillers.

The doctor spread her arms, inviting Jane into an embrace. "It doesn't hurt so much when I'm holding you," Maura whispered into the mess of hair around the Italian's ear.

On hearing those words, Jane melted. Her heart swelled with emotion, and she felt tears prickle in her eyes. _I think I love you. _The realisation reverberated through her brain, but she couldn't bring herself to say it out loud. Not yet. Not so soon. Not until she was completely certain. Instead of replying, she settled for kissing the cool skin of Maura's shoulder, and nuzzling against her neck.

Maura couldn't pinpoint how long they stayed like that, but soon, the pain in her chest effervesced and gradually disappeared. Jane seemed to have dozed off underneath her.

"Jane?" she whispered.

"Mmhhmm."

"Can we go to bed now?"

"Sure." Jane mumbled sleepily. She didn't make any move to get up, nor did she loosen her hold on the doctor.

Maura kissed her full on the mouth. That worked. Jane's eyes flew open, and – after her initial surprise – she kissed the doctor right back.

"I could get used to being woken up like that," Jane smiled.

"I could get used to it too. But I'm even colder than I was before, I'm exhausted, and my posterior is going numb sitting on the floor. And, not to put too fine a point on it, this rug smells like arse."

"Smells like arse?" Jane chuckled. "Maura, you've been spending too much time with your mother."

"You aren't allowed to talk about my mother right now."

"What? Why not?"

"Because you're completely naked, with incredible sex hair, and not too long ago, you fucked me completely blind. So, can we please not mention family?"

Jane made a zipping motion across her mouth. "Deal. And speaking of sex hair – you should see yours."

Maura's hands gravitated to her head. She looked alarmed. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing, it's beautiful. I've always wondered what you'd look like with a mohawk and now I know."

The doctor gave her a playful shove. "Cruel."

Beaming, Jane shoved back gently; after her previous forgetfulness, she was now extra mindful of the bullet hole. She stood, her joints cracking in protest at her lying on the floor so long. She offered Maura a hand to help her up. When they were both standing, Jane captured the other woman's lips in a sleepy kiss. She just couldn't help herself.

"You're so beautiful," Jane told her earnestly.

"You're gorgeous." Maura replied, grinning, and kissed her tenderly.

The doctor clenched her muscles against the cold air that threatened to make her shiver. She was perfectly naked, except for the two rectangles of medical dressing covering the bullet wound that had been the catalyst for all this. If it had hastened them coming together, then Maura was almost glad she'd been shot. Obviously she would have preferred not to have been, but she knew Jane was worth it.

"Here," Maura said. She touched her bandage to Jane's ribs, where the detective's own bullet hole puckered the otherwise smooth skin.

Jane looked at her with surprise. "Did we just high-five scar tissue?"

"I think we did."

"I think we both need sleep."

With a sudden vigour that surprised both tired women, Jane swept Maura up into her arms and lifted the doctor off her feet. The detective manoeuvred them into her bedroom. She made sure to kick the door closed behind her – Angela had a key to the apartment, and Jane really didn't want her mother busting in on them without any warning. Gracelessly – but carefully – Jane deposited Maura in the centre of her bed, on top of her sheets. Straight away, the doctor nestled her face into the pillows and shut her eyes.

"Maura, come on. It works better if you get _inside _the bed."

The smaller woman mumbled something indistinct, and flapped her hand in the vague direction of Jane, which the detective took to mean 'shut up and come here.'

So, gladly, she did.

* * *

It was the draft that woke her; it whispered across her bare skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Half asleep, Jane felt the slumbering ME burrow closer into her side, trying to get warm in the unexpected low temperature. This wasn't like the simple chill of air on bare skin of before, this was actively _cold. _With the arm that Maura wasn't lying on, Jane reached across and yanked the blanket over them both as best she could.

Jane buried her face in the soft curls at the back of the other woman's neck, and shut her eyes. She still couldn't quite believe they were finally here. Naked. In bed together. Her mind was full of all of the clichés she could use to describe what she was feeling. She could spout all the Hallmark sentiment she wanted, but what being here with Maura was really like was _home. _It was where she belonged. Where they both belonged. It was like they'd been sculpted for each other. Each perfect in the other's eyes.

Her eyes snapped back open a moment later when she heard a floorboard creak.

Jerked from the wreckage of her happy reverie, she strained her ears, desperately listening out for any other sound. Her heart pounding, she imagined she could hear the rustle of clothing, but there was no way that could have reached her from beyond the closed bedroom door.

Warily, so as not to wake Maura and potentially worry her unnecessarily, Jane eased herself from the bed. She padded to her dresser, and slipped on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Silently, she crossed the room and deftly turned the door handle without a sound.

As the door opened, a blast of freezing air hit her. All of her windows were open. That wasn't right. She hadn't left them that way. She knew she hadn't. In fact, she was meticulous about keeping the windows tightly shut this time of year; it saved on heating bills.

No, this wasn't right at all.

Jane's first instinct was to go for her gun. But it wasn't at her hip. Avoiding the patches on the hardwood she knew would scrape and give her away, the detective went to the dresser where she normally left her weapon. She hunched to make herself a smaller target, but there was nobody in the room. In spite of what her eyes were telling her, her gut twisted, and she knew that things weren't right. The glaring absence of her gun in the drawer confirmed it.

Someone had been in here. Someone had taken it.

After that, her _only _instinct was to protect Maura. As fast as stealth would allow, she went into the bedroom, and pushed the door until it was only open a sliver.

"Maura, wake up," Jane hissed urgently. "Something's wrong."

"Wh―?" The doctor mumbled sleepily. The detective quickly covered her mouth with her hand. Quicker than a thought, Maura was alert and conscious. Her eyes registered alarm and fear.

"There's someone in the apartment," Jane whispered so softly that Maura had to strain to hear it. "I need you to put some clothes on as quietly as you can."

Maura nodded. Catlike, she got up and shrugged on a pair of Jane's gym shorts and a Boston Homicide sweater. While she dressed, Jane peeked through the gap between the door and the frame.

"What is it?" Maura breathed into her ear.

"I don't know," Jane answered honestly.

"Can I look?"

The detective motioned for Maura to peer out.

"I don't see anyone," the doctor murmured.

"I can feel it."

Abruptly, Jane noticed the tiny crack of light rimming the bathroom door. It was so faint she hadn't noticed it before. Some fucker was hiding in her water closet. Her fingers curled around the wood of the bedroom door. She felt Maura's concerned presence at her side.

"Get behind me. Now."

The doctor obeyed without question. Jane could see her how her pupils were dilated with the same dread the detective was feeling. She wished she could reassure Maura somehow, but she knew anything she could possibly say would just sound hollow and fake. One thing she would never do was promise Maura things would be okay when she wasn't sure they would be.

Jane remembered she had left her baseball bat propped against the end of the kitchen counter. She'd been using it to practice her swing earlier the previous evening. She could have kicked herself. _Why didn't I remember that when I was out there? _If she could just get to it―

Her bathroom door swung open, and a large silhouette was framed in the doorway. Full of fury, Jane kicked through her door and punched on the light. The man was wiping his hands with one of _her_ towels. In _her_ apartment. On this night, of all the nights he could have chosen. Her scarred hands balled into fists. _How fucking dare he._

"Who the fuck are you?"

He looked over at her, completely unsurprised at her appearance. "Detective Rizzoli," he said in a deep voice. "Paddy Doyle sent me."


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Sorry for my sporadic updating schedule. I hope this isn't too stressful/shit. As ever, please review if you can be bothered. Much love and appreciation! **

_Paddy Doyle sent me._

"Doyle sent you." Jane said hollowly. She'd placed herself protectively between the intruder and Maura, effectively covering her so that if he pulled a gun, there was no way he could get a shot at the doctor.

"How long have you been here?" Jane asked, stalling for time. She desperately hoped this creep hadn't been in her apartment when she and Maura had crashed inside a few hours earlier. It made her sick to think he might have been here during their first time together. If it turned out he had been present, Jane knew she would be hard pressed not to shoot him in the face, regardless of why he was actually here.

The man shrugged. "Not long. I came in through the fire escape a little while ago. Had to take a piss though. You got a nice place."

Jane grimaced. She needed space to think. Needed to find a solution. Needed to get this bastard out of her home. The detective glanced to where her baseball bat was propped against the side of the kitchen counter. The man followed her eyes, and sighed.

"I wouldn't try anything, Rizzoli." He told her in a world-weary voice. "I'm armed and I'll shoot you if I have to. Paddy ain't too bothered if you get hurt."

Maura lunged forward. "Don't you dare," she warned in a voice that promised pain if it was disobeyed.

Jane caught her before she moved too far and thrust the smaller woman back behind herself. She studied the intruder intently. There was nothing in his body language that suggested imminent violence, and yet... He smiled like a shark. It was a killer's smile. She didn't like anything about him, didn't like anything about this whole goddamn situation.

"Did Paddy send you to threaten us?" Maura demanded, pushing forward again. She had had the same thought as Jane and was so furious that the detective had little regard for her own safety. "Did he send you to kill us?"

The intruder looked at her with disdain. "You really don't know your father very well, do you?"

"He's not her father," Jane injected forcefully. "What do you want?"

"Have a seat, detective. I just want to talk."

"You don't tell me to sit in my own apartment."

The man pulled out a gun. Jane's gun. "Have a seat or I'll shoot you in the kneecap."

Jane swallowed hard. Careful not to make any sudden moves, she sat down on the stool that went with her breakfast bar.

The intruder gestured with the weapon. "You too, Dr Isles. Take the weight off your feet."

Maura quickly complied. She was shaking, but Jane couldn't tell if it was from rage or from fear. All the blood had drained from her face, and she had the kind of wildness in her eyes that Jane often saw in cornered people.

"Did you not want the sofa?" The man asked.

"What?" Jane spat.

"I thought you might be more comfortable."

"I'm fine here. Now, talk."

Jane felt Maura bristle like an angry cat as the man crossed to the Italian's sofa, sat down casually, and rested his feet on the coffee table.

"Talk." Jane repeated.

Instead of answering her, the man addressed Maura. "How's that bullet hole doing?"

"Wonderful," the doctor replied stiffly. "But I'm quickly running out of patience, if you don't―"

She was interrupted by a clicking sound. Frowning, the intruder had thumbed off the safety catch of Jane's gun. The detective flinched. She knew very well the weapon had a full magazine, and, right now, there was no way she could protect Maura if things went sideways. The only thing she could do was get him talking; if she could find out why he was here – find out what he wanted from them – then she might be able to keep them both safe.

"Stop, Maura," Jane ordered softly. She fixed the man with a level look and said as civilly as she could manage: "Please. Why are you here?

"That's better, Rizzoli." The intruder smirked. "It's funny, you're a cop – on any other day I wouldn't hesitate to take you down. I hate your kind."

"The feeling is mutual." Maura murmured.

Jane shot her a look. Maura's anger and fear was making the doctor bold, which worried the detective. Jane was certain that if the ME continued making snide comments, this man would follow through on his previous threat, and put a bullet straight into Jane's kneecap. Maura knew she herself was safe enough, but she didn't seem to realise how precarious a situation this put the detective in. One wrong move from either of them, and it would be Jane who suffered the consequences.

Fortunately, the man was gazing at Jane with unconcealed dislike. "You're lucky Paddy sent some very strict instructions down the line."

Jane didn't speak. Nor did Maura; she seemed to have finally got the hint. In fact, things seemed to have hit home pretty hard all of a sudden. The doctor laced her fingers together and stared at the intruder. Jane had expected her to be more baleful, but she seemed to be edging more toward catatonic. There was nothing the detective could do about that now though.

"Right," he said. "Obviously, you've realised I'm with the Irish mob. I'm here because Paddy wants to send a message."

_Send a message, _Jane grimaced. Any time Paddy Doyle wanted to send a message, he did it with an ice pick, not with a remarkably casual gunman and a 5am break-in. Something was off here.

"The mob does a lot of killing, and maiming, and nasty shit like that. You've probably come across a fair amount of it. But sometimes, they need something else. Either something harder to trace, or something more imaginative. There are only so many times you can break a man's fingers, you know what I mean? Or maybe Paddy can't have this particular blood on his hands – that kind of thing. Anyhow, sometimes they hire a kind of private contractor to get the wet work done."

"Are you one of those contractors?" Jane asked softly.

"I sure am."

"Who's blood can Paddy not have on his hands? Mine? Maura's?"

The man laughed. "I told you, I'm not here to kill you. Don't you listen, detective?"

"I don't trust anything you say."

"Of course you don't," he chuckled. "You're smarter than you look."

"When you say 'private contractor,' do you mean a professional killer?" Maura wondered slowly.

The man clapped. "Gold star for the doc! Exactly. A hitman. And some of these hitmen? They ain't got no morals – they ain't picky about who they work for. So, you can have the same guy killing for the Irish, and then the next week he's taking out people for the Columbians. No honour."

"The nerve." Jane said quietly, her sarcasm getting the better of her.

Thankfully, the man with the gun was as bad at detecting sardonic undertones as Maura was. "I know, right? The fuckers."

"This is all very deplorable," Maura said wearily, "But why do we care?"

"Because, Dr. Isles, I can tell you who shot you."

Jane sat bolt upright in her chair. She sensed Maura's jaw drop.

"You can?" the blonde woman breathed.

"Sure. In fact, I can tell you where he is right now."

Blinking disbelievingly, Jane clenched her fists. "And why would you do that?"

"Paddy's pissed someone almost killed his daughter. Blood is thick with that clan. And since some skinny grease-ball dyke detective locked him up, he can't be dealing out the justice, you feel me?"

"So where is this supposed hitman?"

"It's sensitive. A bit difficult."

"I can get you a tissue."

"Not funny, Rizzoli. The guy you're looking for? He shot the doc while he was on a job for some big-shot lawyer. But he's also worked for Paddy in the past. Makes it tricky, you know? Which is why I'm here talking to you, instead of holding my gun in his mouth."

"Tell me where he is."

Jane jolted to her feet as the man stood up. Once more, she moved between herself and Maura, trying as best she could to obscure his view of her. She gritted her teeth as the intruder approached her. He reached into the back pocket of his jeans, and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. He tossed it carelessly in her direction. Jane caught it easily and unfolded it. Written there in clumsy, spidery was an address.

"What is this?"

"Safe house. Used by Mexican drug runners. They cooked crystal in it for a while, but now it's empty. Your hitman is hiding out there. Paddy put the word out. Fucking meth dealers are the only ones stupid enough to give him shelter."

The address was on one side of the warehouse district, near to the docks, in the part of town she knew was a popular spot for drug dealers and crack houses. She remembered Joey Grant doing busts in that area a few years ago. Loathe as she was to trust the word of a man who'd broken into her apartment, she had to admit his story seemed to add up.

Turning the piece of paper over in her hands, Jane frowned. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"I guess you don't." The man smiled his shark-like smile. With a practised flick, he dropped the clip from the butt of Jane's gun and tossed the now empty onto the sofa. Then, looking like a man who didn't have a care in the world, he walked straight out of her flat and slammed the door behind him.

Immediately, Jane seized her gun and drove the magazine back into it. Then she tucked it into the back of her sweats, and went straight to her cell phone.

"Jane―" Maura began, but stopped speaking when her voice cracked.

The detective lifted the receiver to her ear. "Dispatch, this is Victor 825..."

Jane moved into her bedroom, which muffled her words. Maura listened to her shifting about, talking to various people, and banging through her closet. The doctor looked down at her hands, and saw the quite obvious tremor of fear and fading adrenaline vibrating through her fingers. In fact, her whole body felt like it was shaking. She realised her face was wet with tears. When had she been crying? Not while the man was here, surely. She wasn't certain. As she choked back a wayward sob, pain flashed in her torso. She wrapped her arms around herself and struggled to bring her emotions and her body back under control. However, seemingly of their own volition, her eyes welled with moisture.

"Jane?" she called hesitantly.

The detective made no answer. Forgotten, Maura found it more and more of a battle not to cry. The back of her throat began to hurt with the effort of swallowing the sounds that threatened to escape her lips. She dug her fingertips into the material of the counter, holding it the way a drowning person would clutch at a life raft. She clung on so tightly that her knuckles went white and began to ache.

"Jane?" Maura managed to choke out, louder this time.

"What is it?" came the distracted response from the bedroom.

"Jane, please."

The detective walked into the kitchen. The bottoms of her sweatpants whispered against the hardwood floor. Maura's legs felt as though they wouldn't support her weight, otherwise, she would have buried herself in Jane's embrace. As it was, Jane simply looked at her with confusion.

"Maura?"

Unsteadiness be damned, Maura reached for the detective. Jane caught her as she stumbled, and the doctor inhaled the familiar, comforting scent of the other woman.

"Maura, what's going on?"

"I was so scared, Jane. I didn't realise it at the time. But it hit me."

Jane's arms tightened around Maura's small frame. The doctor felt the Italian plant a kiss on the top of her head. "I've got you," Jane breathed. "You're okay now. We're okay."

"I know that man," Maura suddenly said, abruptly become conscious of the fact she recognised his face. "I've seen him in the files we have on Paddy. He's killed at least four people, and gravely injured a lot more."

"I thought he looked familiar." Jane eased away from Maura's embrace. "Just give me a second."

When Jane returned a moment later, she was tucking her shirt into a pair of work trousers. A suit jacket was slung over one shoulder, and, in the other hand, she held a flak vest emblazoned with 'BOSTON PD.'

Maura blinked. "You're leaving?"

"Of course. Frost, Frankie and Korsak are on the way to the safe house. We've got a couple of uniforms coming too. I'll meet them there, and we'll get this done."

Shuddering, Maura felt fresh tears spill from her eyes. She covered her mouth, and sagged against the breakfast bar. Jane's hands swept the doctor's unruly hair from where it had fallen across her face. Jane lowered herself so their eyes were on the same level.

"Don't worry, Maura. Seriously. We're finally gonna get this asshole."

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?" Jane asked, concerned.

Maura pressed her hand back to her lips, tighter this time. Jane had misunderstood her. The detective couldn't seem to tell how rattled their encounter with the intruder had made the doctor. She wasn't crying because she was worried about Jane, she was crying because she was scared, and angry, and wholly out of her comfort zone. Above all else, she was crying because Jane didn't comprehend that, and because she desperately didn't want the detective to leave.

"Please, don't―" _Please don't go. Don't leave me here like this. Alone._

"Don't what, Maura? What's the matter with you?"

The smaller woman inhaled unevenly. "Please don't go," she said in a barely audible voice.

"What?" Jane's eyebrows shot up. "I've got to get across town and meet them."

"But―"

"Do you want to come too?"

Maura shook her head sadly.

"Then what do you want to do? Maura, I don't understand. Please, tell me what's wrong."

"I want you to stay with me."

Smiling, Jane deposited a quick kiss to the doctor's lips. "I'll be back before you know it. And I'll take down that son of a bitch. We'll get him." She paused. "Hey, don't look so worried, I've got my vest, and plenty of back up."

"That's not what I'm worried about."

"What is it then?" Jane was starting to lose her patience.

"What if it's a trap? Or it's Paddy playing some kind of game?"

"My gut says it's not."

"Jane, for once stop listening to your intestines and _think_. Paddy Doyle hates both of us!"

"He might hate me, but he still loves you. Trust me, Maura, this is my job – I know what I'm doing."

Shrugging on her bulletproof vest, Jane tried to appraise Maura. But the detective was too much like a bloodhound on the hunt – she had a scent in her nose, and she was finding it hard to think of anything else. As concerned as she was for Maura's wellbeing, Jane couldn't make sense of the other woman, and she had firmly made up her mind that the only way to make sure Maura was alright, was to go and take down the bastard who'd shot her.

"Why do _you _have to go?" The doctor asked belligerently. "Why can't another detective look into it? You're still on leave, Jane, let someone else go."

"Look, I can't let anyone fuck this up. I have to get him. I have to!"

"Please, Jane. Stay with me."

"I'm doing this _for_ you!"

"No you aren't. This is all about you. Right now, I really need you with _me_, not chasing phantoms."

"The guy shot you – you can't expect me to just let this slide. This is a lead!"

"Is it? Is it really? Because, as far as we know, this could be complete bullshit."

"It makes sense, Maura. You heard what the guy said. It's a real lead!"

"And what if it's not? What then?"

Jane raked her hair back forcefully. "I'm going, Maura. I gotta do this. Now."

"No. Don't you dare leave me, Jane Rizzoli."

The door shut with a definite snap, leaving Maura crushingly alone in a wholly silent room.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews and support - you're all wonderful. Let me know what you think of this one! **

They coasted in slowly, as quietly as they could, without sirens and with their headlights off. Jane's orders. Frankie had wanted to go in all guns blazing, but his sister had vehemently shot down that strategy. There was no way in hell she was about to tip off the unsub and let the bastard get away again. Careful not to let the car door slam loudly, Jane stepped out onto the sidewalk and drew her gun with one hand. The other made sure her flak vest was securely fastened.

"Ready?" she asked Frost in a low voice.

Frost clicked the safety catch off of his weapon and nodded. Jane watched Frankie and Korsak move to secure the rear of the building. It was a rundown street, and a quick glance at a map had revealed it to be a cul-de-sac with very few points of entry or exit. Their target was inside what looked like it might have been a convenience store at one point, but now it was boarded up. Jane could see a faint light glimmer through a crack in shutters, which she thought was most likely coming from the back room.

"You smell that?" Frost whispered as they cautiously approached the building. As the front was boarded shut, their plan was to go in through the side entrance – which was less secured – while Frankie and Korsak hit the back way. As a precaution, two uniformed officers were stationed at the end of the street in case the unsub ran, or in case the detectives needed backup.

Jane inhaled. An acrid scent caught and prickled in her nostrils, tickling the back of her throat. It was caustic and unpleasantly familiar. She knew it would only get worse inside the building.

"That's ammonia and lye, Jane," Frost told her, disquiet registering in his brown eyes.

Jane shrugged. "Paddy's guy said this place used to be a meth lab."

"It's pretty strong. Smells like someone might still be cooking up drugs here."

Swearing softly, Jane had to agree with him. She murmured a warning into the radio mic that was attached to her collar, hoping Frankie and Korsak would hear it and take note. The receiver bud in her ear hissed as Korsak mumbled an affirmative.

With a pair of bolt-cutters, Frost expertly sliced through the chains holding the side door closed. A blast of hot air expelled from inside the building. With it came the increasingly powerful scent of ammonia and sodium hydroxide. Jane also caught the tang of red phosphorus. She and Frost exchanged a look. She went in first, with him covering her.

The doorway opened into a gloomy corridor. There was nobody to be seen. They moved in quietly, conscious of the task at hand, and how personal it was to both of them. Apprehending this unsub wasn't just work for either of them. It never had been.

They reached an entrance to the back room. The egress was covered with a thick curtain of clear plastic sheeting, which had been layered so much that it was almost opaque. Jane could feel heat radiating from inside.

"That's definitely a lab," she whispered to Frost.

He nodded. "Jane, maybe we should call a Hazmat team. We can't deal with this ourselves."

"We're here now. Let's just get in, get our guy and get the hell out asap. Hazmat can handle it when we're finished."

"I don't know―"

"Barry, come on. Think about it – there's no time to get them over here. We can't lose our unsub again. All we have to do is sweep the place." She gestured, "We'll check in there last."

Frost eyed her sceptically. He wanted to argue, but he knew she was probably right, and there was a fire in her eyes that he didn't feel like he could say no to. But he knew that if any of the fumes in that room got into his lungs, he'd be coughing up blood for the next week. Or worse. However, Jane didn't give him a chance to disagree – she was already moving along the hall, past the plastic coverings and further into the building.

At the end of the corridor, they ran into Frankie and Korsak at the foot of a set of stairs. Though Vince was the senior officer, the team seemed to have come to an unspoken tacit understanding that Jane was in charge of this operation. She pointed with her gun, signalling that her brother and Korsak should sweep upstairs, while she and Frost continued to appraise the lower level.

"This place is an active meth lab," Frost warned the two other men. "That shit is really flammable. Be careful."

Looking nervous, Frankie nodded. He and Korsak cautiously started up the stairs. With her heart pounding, Jane covered Frost as they emerged onto the shop floor. It was darker in here than elsewhere in the store, and the empty shelves cast strange shapes through the thick shadow. Jane was beginning to regret not bringing torches. Keeping low, Frost hugged the back wall, his gun at the ready, while Jane tiptoed down the side toward the front of the store. She swung her weapon to point down each aisle as she went. She could feel adrenaline sluicing through her arteries and thumping across every nerve ending. Her pulse roared in her ears, and she almost worried that it was loud enough to give her away.

On the third row of shelving, she saw a grey figure obscured by the dimness. He was crouching, with what looked like a crowbar in one hand. Jane could tell he was watching Frost intently.

Without a sound, she snuck up behind him and pressed the barrel of her gun to his temple. He was so focussed on the other detective that he didn't even notice her until the cold metal of her weapon touched his skin.

"Drop it." She ordered.

The resulting clang of metal as the bar fell to the floor made her wince. Frost jerked around sharply.

"Jane?" he queried.

"Got one," she grunted. "Check the front."

Frost nodded and disappeared behind another stack of shelves.

"How many of you are there in here?" Jane murmured.

"Fuck you, pig." The man spat. He didn't move, but Jane could see him shaking. With her right hand, she pulled her handcuffs from her belt in a single smooth motion, and fastened one of the quivering man's wrists to the down bar of the nearest shelving unit. Once he was secure, she met Frost back where they had come into the room. He shook his head to tell her he'd not found anyone else.

"Was that our guy?" he asked softly.

The irritation and disappointment on Jane's face told him all he needed to know. He squashed down a sigh as Jane turned and headed from the shop floor toward the rear stockroom which held the meth lab. He really wasn't sure how they would play this. There was no way he was going in there if he didn't absolutely have to. As much as he wanted to snag the unsub, and as much as he liked Maura, it wasn't worth dying for – a fact that so far seemed to have escaped Jane.

They reached the plastic curtains. "Wait here, I'll be back in two minutes. If I'm not―"

"Then I'll come in and save your stupid ass," Frost said, and smiled wryly.

"Deal."

Jane took a deep breath and edged through the plastic sheet. She kept her eyes narrowed to ward against the fumes; even so, it wasn't long before tears began to stream down her cheeks. Sweat quickly soaked the material of her shirt. Her gun poised to fire, she moved as far as she dared from the entrance. It was hard to see with her eyes so brimming with moisture, and the lighting level was lower than she had realised. The shadows swam in strange shades and shapes.

Lungs beginning to burn from lack of oxygen, Jane turned to leave. Abruptly she spotted two gas masks lying abandoned on a makeshift counter top. She swiftly grabbed them and ducked out into the clean atmosphere of the hallway. Immediately, she sucked in a mouthful of sweet blessed air, and struggled to sweep all the tears from her eyes.

"You okay?" Frost asked anxiously. He'd never admit to her how nerve-wracking the past ninety-seven seconds had been. Nor would he own up to counting the time like that.

"Fine," she coughed, and passed him a gasmask. "Here. You with me?"

Nodding, Frost secured the mask over his face and made sure to check it worked. Thus fortified, they ducked back into the foul smelling room. Now that Jane could see the place properly, she realised it was quite a significant operation. Though fairly small – as far as such drug manufacture went – this place probably still cooked enough meth to bring in hundreds of thousands of dollars. In Boston, a pound of methamphetamine sold wholesale for anywhere between thirteen and twenty-one grand.

All around were bubbling containers at various stages of the process. None of which Jane wanted to go too close to. Bunsen burners kicked out so much heat that the eye piece of her mask was beginning to steam up. Beyond the mismatch of tables littered with drug paraphernalia and smoking beakers and test tubes was a mess of debris, which must have been left behind after the store closed years ago. Broken shelving units, stacks of wooden pallets and a surfeit of cardboard boxes created a kind of no-man's land.

Frost reached it first, and glanced around to make sure Jane was covering him. She nodded as reassuringly as she could without dislodging her mask.

All of a sudden, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and spun to face it. But before she could confront the danger, something hard collided with the back of her legs and dropped her to her knees. Her assailant gave her no time to recover. The next blow impacted hard on the side of her head and sent her sprawling. Her gun went in one direction and her gasmask went in the other. As her head whirled and noxious fumes assaulted her throat and eyes, Jane could feel the coldness of the ground on her cheek. She tried to concentrate on that feeling as her vision sparked and fluttered. She felt her lungs wrack and gasp for breath.

"Jane!" Frost yelled, his voice muffled by the respirator.

She barely registered his shout, nor the following sounds of him fighting against an attacker. One hand flailed desperately. She wasn't even sure what she was searching for – the gun or the mask. Spasms jerked violently in her chest as she fought not to inhale the gases that were so thick in the air. Pain throbbed in her legs and head, making it hard to think.

In that moment, Maura's face swam in front of her eyes. _I never told her how I really felt. I shouldn't have left her, _Jane realised with startling clarity. _Fuck. _Tears were forming in her eyes for a different reason now, as she groped frantically for a reprieve.

"Please," she choked out, not sure if she was talking to Maura or attempting to address a higher power.

Her fingers brushed a worn strap. The gasmask. Straight away, she seized it and slammed it over her face with bruising force. She took a long rattling breath through the respirator and felt her heart jump with relief.

Using the nearest trestle table as a support, Jane struggled to her feet. Two men had set upon Frost while she'd been on the ground. With surprising agility, she hurdled a counter and grabbed a chair. She brought the chair down on the back of one man's head with all the strength she could summon. The wood splintered under the sudden impact and the man dropped like a stone, unconscious long before he hit the ground.

The second man paused in shock, leaving Frost the opening he needed to land a savage punch to the man's stomach, which doubled him up. Frost kicked him in the head and knocked him to the floor.

"Thanks," Frost said hoarsely. The front of his visor was cracked, and Jane could see the plastic had splintered and cut him just above the eyebrow. Tears tracked down his face, but the respirator was intact.

"You okay?" She asked, mirroring his earlier question.

He nodded, wincing slightly. "That's the second time I've seen you break a chair over a meth-crazed gangbanger."

"We really shouldn't make such a habit of it."

Jane retrieved her gun from where it had fallen. She and Frost quickly set to removing the two unconscious men from the lab, into the relative safety of the hallway. Somehow, each man had managed to remain wearing his gasmasks.

"Neither of these is our unsub." Jane said heatedly.

"Frankie?" Frost called into his radio. "Korsak? You read?"

"No sign of our guy up here." Frankie sighed back.

"Then where the fuck is he?" Jane spat out to nobody in particular. She kicked one of the fallen men to vent some of her anger. The man moaned feebly. It didn't make her feel better. She tossed away her gasmask, and chewed the side of her thumbnail.

Frankie and Korsak materialised at the mouth of the corridor. Jane slumped dejectedly against the wall, as Frost went to fetch the man she'd cuffed out on the shop floor. _A dead end, _she thought. _Just like Maura said it would be._

"Get these guys outside," Jane ordered, gesturing to the two men, one of whom was beginning to stir.

Frankie and Korsak exchanged a look, but neither of them was game to say anything. She knew what they were thinking – this venture had brought them no closer to Maura's attacker. They were aggravated – with the situation, with the failure. With her.

Now alone, Jane blinked back tears of frustration. _I'm so sorry, Maura. I've let you down. Again. _

She was so consumed by self-loathing that she didn't notice the silhouette of a man framed in the plastic sheeting, until he'd ripped the protective curtain completely away, and launched himself out into the hall. He smacked into Jane, and sent her off-balance. Her shoulder thudded painfully into the opposite wall as the man barrelled past. As she battled to regain her centre of gravity, Jane snatched a glimpse of the man's profile.

Him.

The unsub. She drew her weapon without thinking. Aimed. Fired. She felt, rather than saw, the hammer of her gun strike off a spark that ignited the fumes now freely escaping from the lab.

As the ceiling disappeared in a wash of fire, Jane realised she'd made a terrible mistake.


	20. Chapter 20

After Jane left, Maura had forced herself to linger in the apartment for an extra ten minutes in the vain hope that Jane would change her mind and return home. When that became unlikely, and she felt too anxious to stay in the flat, she'd walked straight out the front door and hailed a cab. For a moment, she'd considered going to a bar – somewhere public, somewhere busy – so that she could feel safe in the company of others. But then, she'd never felt safe in the company of others. She quickly discounted that idea.

So instead, she'd snatched up the gift Susie had given Jane to give her, and left. She didn't even bother to pick up her discarded dress; she'd merely stormed off wearing the detective's clothes. She barely registered the fact she wasn't wearing underwear or shoes, which said a lot for her mood.

Half an hour later, she'd arrived home. She'd expected to feel safer, but as soon as she got inside, she was hit with the memory of Paddy Doyle bleeding on her sofa while his man held a gun to her head. She swallowed. The man knew where she lived, where she worked. He knew everything about her. And now, he knew about Jane, and how to break into her apartment.

Suddenly the expensive security system she'd had installed after Paddy's last visit didn't make her feel quite so safe. She wished Jane were with her, she wished the detective could wrap her arms around her and make her feel protected. _No. Fuck Jane, _Maura thought. _Jane's the reason I feel like this in the first place._

A thought sifted through her hurt to the forefront of her mind. She knew something that would make her potentially feel better. It wasn't something she'd ever had to consider before.

Still barefoot, she padded back out of her home, and let herself into the guest house. Pink light shone in through the windows, heralding the coming day. Maura checked her phone – the display read 5:47 am. She doubted Angela was awake yet; normally the older woman didn't stir until around seven o'clock.

Making as little noise as possible, Maura opened the under-stairs cupboard and peeked inside. Carefully, she reached up to the top shelf and pulled down a weighty plastic case. With her burden stowed under her arm, she took up position on the sofa. Having deposited the case on the coffee table, she waited a moment before she opened it. Now that she actually thought about the contents, revealing them wasn't really something she wanted to hasten.

With a sigh, she thumbed in the code to unlock the case, and warily lifted the lid to look at what was inside.

A gun.

To be exact – which Maura always was – it was a Colt Python revolver, with a shining six inch barrel and lacquered mahogany grip. Nestled to one side of the weapon was a small box of .357 calibre magnum bullets. The gun had belonged to her father in the 80s, and he'd given it to her when she moved to Boston. He'd called it his 'hand cannon,' and she knew exactly what he meant.

Though it was heavy, the one time Maura had actually fired it, she had found it to be remarkably easy to handle, in spite of the somewhat vigorous recoil. Indeed the weight seemed almost to tame the shock of firing a bullet. She and Jane had taken it to the BPD shooting range, so that the detective could give her a rundown of how to control the gun. In spite of Jane's encouragement, Maura hadn't trusted herself with the weapon. The detective had told her she'd looked like a female Clint Eastwood, and they'd bantered about whether or not that was actually a compliment.

She smiled at the memory.

Jane liked the gun because she said it looked like something John Wayne would use to kill zombies. Indeed, after the detective finally persuaded her to watch _The Walking Dead, _Maura noticed that the protagonist – somewhat anachronistically – used the same model revolver. Herself, she hated the weapon, and couldn't stand to have it in her house. Though she was around Jane – and many other armed police personnel – very often, and took no issue with their firearms, it was a different thing entirely to have one registered in her name. It made her uncomfortable, and as a result, she had always left it here in the guest house. Angela knew it was there – the older woman seemed to have no problem with it; perhaps she even felt safer with it close by, but Maura had never fully understood the American love of guns.

Carefully, Maura slipped her fingers around the smoothly sculpted grip and withdrew the gun from its case. It fit nicely into her palm, and the weight was reassuring. With a strange feeling of ceremony, she swung open the chamber and slowly loaded six bullets to fill it to capacity. She laid the gun back on the table, ensuring it was within easy reach.

She stared at the gun, waiting for it to make her feel better.

It didn't.

She missed Jane. In spite of the scientific impossibility, Maura's heart ached. She wanted to shout at the detective, wanted to curse her. Wanted to forgive her – as she knew she would inevitably do. But first, she wanted Jane to make her feel safe the way that only Jane could. But the Italian wasn't with her, so she could do none of these things.

So instead, Maura seethed, growing more and more frustrated, and she glared at the gun, unblinking. _Why isn't this helping? _It was irrational to put such stock in an inanimate object, she knew. Against her rushing emotions, a firearm was about as useful as a childhood blanket, or a romantic keepsake. The gun only signalled danger, not succour.

Maura sighed, slumping backwards into the dim comfort of the throw pillows. All of a sudden, the fact she'd barely slept caught up with her, and she felt exhausted. She wiped an errant tear from her cheek and closed her eyes.

Quickly, and quite without meaning to, she fell asleep.

_ She was in her office, sat at her desk. Jane was standing there in front of her, making her feel like a school principle gazing at a misbehaving pupil. Jane stared back, her eyes full of that spark that so quickened Maura's pulse._

_"You wanted to see me?" Jane husked._

_Maura stood smoothly. "Shut the door."_

_The detective smirked. "Yes, ma'am."_

_"And the blinds."_

_Maura leant casually against the front of her desk. There was a hiss as Jane pulled the cord; immediately the room dimmed. _Mood lighting_, Maura thought. With a provocative edge to her usual swagger, the detective came to stand before her. With a single step, the doctor could have closed the distance between them._

_"What was it you wanted me for?" Jane murmured. Her eyes were fixed upon the soft curve of Maura's lips._

_"A few things," she answered coyly. _

_She reached out with one hand and took hold of the detective's shirt front. She tugged her forward. Their mouths met, gentle, loving. Their kiss was slow, unhurried and tender. The feeling of Jane's lips moving languorously with her own took her breath away. The detective's hands slid over the material of her dress, over her hips and up her ribs. One hand rested on the small of her back and pulled her closer, while the other came up to cup the side of her face. Jane's tongue brushed against Maura's lower lip. The doctor opened her mouth, deepening the kiss, and delighting in the shiver of arousal she felt shimmer through Jane's body._

_Maura pushed the detective's jacket from the Italian's shoulders and let it whisper to the floor. Jane pushed between the ME's legs, seeking ever closer contact. The kiss grew more heated; the passionate motion of Jane's tongue against her own made her head spin._

_Jane moaned as Maura untucked her shirt and slid her hands over the soft body underneath. She felt the muscles of the detective's back work as she caressed the landscape of tanned skin. Jane's own hands skilfully opened the front of the smaller woman's silk blouse and pushed the material aside._

_Her hands fisting in Jane's increasingly wild hair, Maura caught the detective's lower lip between her teeth and revelled in the sounds that move pulled from her lover's throat. Jane's fingertips dug into the bare skin of Maura's thigh as she―_

The scrape of metal on metal woke her. 

Eyes wild, full of an overwhelming cocktail of feelings and emotions, Maura jumped to her feet. Sudden icy fear rained down on the fire and desire the dream had left raging inside her. Such a mix was almost painful. She grabbed the gun, and dragged back the hammer spur, cocking the weapon. With such unbridled lethality in her grasp, she spun to face the sound of footsteps. A figure appeared in her line of sight.

"Don't you fucking move!" Maura snarled forcefully. Later, she would be shocked at her boldness, but now all she knew was dread, and a searing white-hot fury.

The figure froze. "Maura?" It whispered.

Maura blinked. _Angela._

"Maura, what's going on?" The older woman gasped out, clearly terrified.

The doctor lowered the gun. With trembling fingers, she uncocked it and swung out the chamber. Bullets thumped down onto the soft carpet.

"Maura?"

"A bell, Angela," Maura cried, completely frazzled. "Wear a fucking bell!"

With that exclamation, she sagged to her knees and began to cry uncontrollably. She buried her face in her hands as tears poured from her eyes. Every emotion, every 'what if,' every thought sprung from her in great wracking sobs.

_I can't do this, _she thought desperately.

* * *

A terrible mistake.

Fire.

The sudden concussive force of the blast knocked Jane to the ground, as tongues of flame lapped across the ceiling, spreading all along the corridor. Thick smoke flooded the air. She felt the heat on her skin and struggled to find her footing, keeping herself low down where the air was marginally fresher.

"Jane?" yelled Frost from somewhere out of sight.

"Frost, get out of here!" she shouted back, and pushed her body into a sprint.

The unsub had bounded out of the side door into the street. As she burst outside in a haze of smoke and fire, she saw Frankie tackle the man, but her brother was knocked aside by a powerful shove. Both men went sprawling, but the unsub regained his feet first and launched into motion. Korsak fired off two shots, but the man was too quick to duck and weave. The bullets thudded uselessly into the tarmac.

"Check Frost!" Jane screamed at Vince, not slowing to explain.

"Janie!" Frankie howled. "You're on fire!"

He was right. Flames licked up from the material of her flak jacket and singed away the hairs on the back of her neck. As she ran, Jane swatted at her shoulders, slapping at the hot fabric, hoping desperately that that would put the fire out. It had burnt clean through her shirt at the top of one arm, and she could feel the raw skin of her bicep twinge in the cold air.

The unsub sped up the driveway of the nearest house, and threw himself bodily over the garden fence. Jane followed, landing with lupine grace on a manicured lawn. There was no way in hell she was letting him get away. Dew flicked up under her heels, dampening the backs of her trousers. She could hear Frankie thud onto the grass behind her, panting to keep up.

At a dead run, the man exploded through the rear gate of the garden. The route took them into a thin, winding alleyway. Jane's muscles burned, and her heart pounded painfully in her chest, as she raced to keep up. She sensed Frankie falling further and further behind. He'd never been as athletic as her.

The unsub disappeared around yet another bend, and Jane drew on her final, flagging reserves of energy and forced herself to run faster.

All of a sudden, the alley opened onto a road. Car horns, shouts and screeching brakes assaulted the dawn air as the unsub darted between the traffic. Rush hour was not yet underway, but it was getting there. The first people were beginning to make their way into work. It must have been about 7:00 am.

Jane almost collided with a man on a bike, and jumped onto the hood of a car to avoid the obstacle. The car – though only moving slowly – slammed to a halt, sending her spinning off of one side. She gasped as her knee hit the tarmac, but lurched quickly to her feet and continued to run. The unsub had reached the other side of the road and had started into a second alley.

This passage was wider than the first; somehow it seemed easier to breathe in this space – less claustrophobic. Jane's calf and thigh muscles were screaming in protest as she maintained her mad dash after the man who'd shot the woman she cared most about in the world. She couldn't hear Frankie with her anymore, and knew she was going to have to do this on her own. But somehow, that seemed right. It should be her.

_For Maura, _she thought unwaveringly.

The passage made an abrupt turn, which forced the unsub to check his speed. He slowed the tiniest amount to prevent himself falling as he took the bend. Seeing her chance, Jane capitalised on it.

Unlike her prey, she didn't slow down in the slightest as she reached the corner. Instead, she slammed into the far wall and shoved off of it as hard as she could, using her momentum to launch into a flying tackle. Her shoulder took the man in the waist as her arms seized him. They fell with a loud meaty thud. To her, it sounded like a sledgehammer hitting wet cement.

He struggled violently and landed a knee in her ribs that flipped her onto her back into a puddle. As he made to get up, she grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him back down, narrowly avoiding the savage kick he aimed at her head.

Amid a wild spray of muddy water, Jane flung herself on top of him, bringing her legs either side of his chest. His fist slammed into her gut and knocked her off balance, but she recovered before he could hit her a second time. Screaming in wordless fury, she punched him straight in the face. Once. Twice.

He was out cold after the second punch. The third and fourth were simply to vent her rage, pain and sheer frustration. It hurt her hand like nothing on earth, but it felt so damn good. So righteous.

That was the good thing about hitmen – you never had to feel bad for what you did to them.

Victorious, but exhausted, Jane sagged sideways off the man into a half-sitting position. She didn't even care that she was mostly slumped in a dirty puddle. The cold water felt pleasant on the areas of her skin that had caught the touch of fire. Maura wouldn't approve – she'd be cautioning against the germs you could pick up.

"I did it, Maura," Jane breathed, rubbing a hand over her sweaty face.

It was only then that she noticed the sheer number of sirens cutting through the dull morning mist. Then she realised her radio mic had been broken at some point – perhaps in this latest scuffle, or before that. _Explains the commotion, _she thought. Since she'd left her own phone in the car, she rummaged in the pockets of the unconscious unsub and found his cell, which had somehow survived their fight. From memory, she dialled Korsak.

He picked up almost immediately. "Sergeant Korsak."

"Hey, Vince," Jane said wearily.

"Jane!" He exclaimed. "Jesus Christ, you scared us. Where the hell are you?"

"I'm fine. You guys okay? Is Frost alright? I didn't see him get out the building."

"We're all okay," Korsak told her earnestly. "Frost might have inhaled some smoke, but he's with the EMTs now. And Frankie's bruised his pride more than anything else. Where are you?"

"Sitting on our unsub."

"Yes!" Vince shouted. Jane could almost see him punch the air. "Nice one, Janie. I thought we might have blown it. I should have known you'd see things through."

She could hear Frost asking questions in the background, wanting to know what was going on.

"What's your location? I'll send Frankie with a squad car to come get you."

Jane gave him directions as best she could, unsure how close her haphazard chase had brought her to the nearest road. Then she hung up, and belatedly cuffed the unconscious man, just to be sure he didn't try anything. Not that his current state was at all conducive to escape. The click of the metal closing around his wrists filled her with an intense triumph. She could wait to get back to Maura and give her the play-by-play of how she'd caught the fucker.

Thinking back to the conversation they'd had before she'd come here, Jane winced. _Don't you dare leave me, Jane Rizzoli, _she heard Maura say. Raking her hair back, Jane sighed. She probably shouldn't have just _left_ like that. But she'd seen the doctor's fear and anger, and she'd reacted the only way she really knew how. All she'd thought of was fixing the problem – and what else could have been the route of said problem? Obviously catching the shooter was the only solution. It hadn't even occurred to her at the time that Maura needed comforting.

But. Surely comforting could wait? There'd only been a small window of time to apprehend the unsub – surely Maura could understand that? Jane chafed the scars on her hands, worried about the scene that might confront her when she arrived home. Would Maura have stayed at Jane's apartment? Jane supposed it depended on how angry the other woman was, or how scared she'd been.

Jane swore loudly. What if she'd really hurt Maura? Whatever was happening between them had only just started and now Jane might have fucked it all up. Her stinging eyes filled with tears, and she quickly brushed them from her lashes before they could fall. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't. Whatever damage she'd done, she could fix.

Couldn't she?

_Shit._


End file.
